


King of the Oceans, Queen of the Seas

by ThreeOfWands



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Genderbending, Humor, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 93,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeOfWands/pseuds/ThreeOfWands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The survivors of the apocalypse live in a feudal society where the rich revel on extravagant cruise ships while the poor barely sustain themselves on barren islands. Merlin, a common born but brilliant young girl, finds herself on the vessel of her dreams, tutoring the Prince of Camelot himself. This is her journey from humble start to dazzling finish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End and Beginning

**Chapter 1 - End and Beginning:**

_Starting at the end of the twenty-first century, the devastating effects of pollutants in the air, water, and earth began to show pernicious effects. The climate began oscillating dramatically and the frequency of natural disasters increased. Chemicals such as Chlorofluorocarbons broke down the Ozone layer, exposing the populace to harmful Ultra-Violet radiation and creating a Greenhouse Effect. Within a century, all of the polar ice melted, raising the sea level by over 200 feet. People living in coastal areas began moving to higher ground, as their homes were flooded. The government built arks to help house the population._  
 _In 2179, The Catastrophe occurred. Nuclear reactors were abandoned and inundated with water. Radiation was released in large amounts into the water and atmosphere. That, coupled with insufficient food, drinking water, and sanitation, led to the disaster that would, in total, kill off 62% of the world’s population. When the world was at its lowest point, Brutus Dardanian set it back on track. He recreated a monarchy system that has been in place ever since…_

“Arthur, are you even listening?” Merlin snapped.

He lifted his head off the desk to fix Merlin with a scornful look. “Of course I have, Merlin.”

“Good, my lord.” She set down the history book she had been reading from. “Then summarize the last chapter for me.”

“Fine. So the twenty-first century people were assholes who didn’t care about the planet so the weather went all wonky. Then all their explosive shit went kaboom so they went to live on these boats and all. Then that Brutus dude comes along and starts the Great Salvation, which saves all the poor little people. Blah blah whatever. So then he marries and has kids who had kids until, me, the bravest and handsomest prince ever was born. The end.” Arthur smirked at Merlin smugly.

“Right. And what was the name of the piece of legislature that decided who got to live on the boats and what the rules would be?”

Arthur’s face pinched. “Ugh. Huh. I know this. Don’t tell me. Um. Okay, does it start with an ‘F’?”

“Arthur.”

“Fine, I don’t know.”

“The Articles of Nauticals which was later added to the Constitution of the Kingdom of Camelot. C’mon Arthur, you got to remember this stuff.”

He sighed. “I know, I know.”

“Kay. And can you tell me what the Articles said?”

“It says that only the rich, intelligent, and the powerful can live on the Arks. Social Darwinism and all that. Everyone else will be left to fend for themselves on the remaining islands. The Mariners that are living on the ship must listen to the King and his officials and abide by the laws that they have set,” Arthur recited dutifully.

Merlin rewarded him with a smile. “Good. Now we can take a break.”

“Thank God. You are one hard governess, M.”

“Yeah. And you hired me so you’re not allowed to complain.”

“I could always fire you.”

“As if you would.”

The prince silently agreed. Arthur knew that no matter how terrible of a tutor Merlin was, he would never fire her. She was his closest friend and confidant, Arthur was pretty sure he couldn’t live without Merlin. Anyways, Merlin was an excellent teacher. She was able to connect with him and make him understand in a way that nobody else had been able to accomplish. Pre-Merlin, Arthur had gone through about a tutor a week, firing them the instant they got on his nerves. Morris hadn’t even lasted a day. Finally his father had put his foot down and demanded if Arthur didn’t find a teacher for himself, Uther would appoint one and it would be final. Arthur had taken one look at Aredian and knew he needed to get a tutor, and fast.

He had been on his way to interview a man named Cedric for the job when his yacht was destroyed in a freak hurricane.

_Arthur found himself in the ice-cold, heaving waves with no idea how he got there. He vaguely remembered the captain’s frantic yelling and mast-snapping gales. Arthur looked right and left, turning himself in tight little circles until he was dizzy. There was no one in sight. Rain beat down on him and fierce gusts of wind made the waves dance higher and higher. The rough, churning ocean shoved him around like a rag doll._

_Arthur searched for the crewmembers that had been with him. A head, an arm, anything. There was nothing. The waves must have pushed them away, or they were… No. Arthur wasn’t going to think about it. They were probably half way to shore by now. They couldn’t be…dead. Arthur was regretting being a brat to the sailors. What he wouldn’t give to see one of their leathery, suntanned faces. Even that annoying one who spat disgusting gobs of tobacco all the time._

_It was getting harder and harder to keep his head above the surface. His entire lower body had gone numb a while ago. It was all he could do to keep his exhausted body moving. Front crawl, backstroke, breaststroke, butterfly, sidestroke, doggy-paddle. Arthur forced his limbs to comply with his mind. He’d lived on the sea his whole life. He was basically born swimming. The sailors had taught him from a young age to respect the sea but never to fear it. For the ocean was fickle and its depths were boundless. They were always at its mercy. Arthur had given drowning only a passing thought. But it was all too real now. All he could think of was the immense body of water with no one around. No one to even find his body when his energy gave out and he died._

_He saw something bobbing in the distance and Arthur called up all his remaining strength to swim towards it. The process took a while, with his nearly useless arms weakly slapping at the water. And for all that effort, Arthur was disappointed to find it wasn’t a fellow survivor. It was a slab of wood inscribed with the name S.S. Mermaid I, the name of his yacht. Arthur gladly grasped on to it, letting the plank take on some of his weight. Somewhere off in the distance, Arthur belatedly registered a bright light that seared into his crusty eyelids. He wondered if this was death, this feelingless floating sensation. As curious as he was, the prince couldn’t help himself as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier…_


	2. Lost and Found

**Chapter 2 - Lost and Found:**

 

Arthur woke up to strong hands rhythmically pushing his chest and a warm mouth covering his own. He wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. Of course that was when reality came rushing back to him. Everything felt stiff and sore, his head pounded and his lungs felt all wrong. Arthur groaned and opened his eyes. The mouth and the hands quickly retreated leaving the prince feeling bereft.

 

He saw crystal blue orbs and wondered again dazedly if he was dead. Then he registered the face the sapphire eyes were connected to.

 

It was a girl, younger than him. She was strange looking. Arthur had never seen someone with that kind of coloring. While all of the girls on his ship had tanned skin and sun bleached hair, this one had a snowy white complexion and shiny, inky curls. Arthur found it was, overall, very pleasing to look at.  He liked that she was different, not at all like the cookie-cutter dolls back at home.  Though she was one of the Terrestrials, there was something entirely otherworldly about the girl.  

 

She settled her piercing gaze on Arthur. "Um. Who are you?"

 

He coughed violently. His throat felt like it got run through the ship's propellers and rolled around in sand.

 

"Oh!" The girl got up hastily. Arthur noticed more expanses of pale skin, sharp lines and an ethereal grace. She reminded him of a colt: slender, gangly, and a little bit unsure of herself. Her hair and her rough-spun dress were soaking wet.  Arthur realized she must have jumped in to save him. "Don't talk, I'll bring you inside so you can have some water."

 

Arthur sat up and took in his surroundings. His pants were clinging to his body and so was what was left of his tattered shirt.  He was sitting in wet sand and the waves lapped up at the shore not a foot away from where he had been lying. From what he could tell it was early morning and thankfully the sun hadn't come out yet. Its rays would be dangerous without the right protection. The prince speculatively studied the rugged verdant coastline and raging ocean. Arthur tried to remember what his geography tutor had told him; before he realized that was the teacher he had thrown a globe at and chased after with a walking stick.  As a result he now had no idea where he was.

 

The strange girl smiled at him hesitantly.  “I’m Merlin.  What’s your name?”

 

Arthur glared at her and gestured to his throat.

 

“Oh right.  You don’t have to tell me right now,” she said generously.  “I wonder where you came from.  Were you in a shipwreck?”

 

He nodded.  Some of his anguish must have shown on his face because Merlin said, “I’m sorry.”  She looked like she meant it.  “I can ask around and see if they found anyone else.”

 

Arthur gave her a grateful smile. He was able to see the beginnings of town over the scruffy sand dunes.  By the time they waded through the waist-high uncut grass, he could see the span of several streets and faded houses.  Everything was dull gray or whitewashed.  The houses had clearly seen much wear over the years.  And it was silent.  Arthur could hear his clothing dripping and his bare feet slapping the pavement.

 

“Welcome to Ealdor.  Or what used to be Northern Ireland.  I live a few blocks over.”  She glanced back at him to make sure he was still following.  “You don’t look so good.”

 

He scowled.

 

“I mean.  Not that you’re ugly or anything.  But you know, you just tossed about in the waves all night.  I bet you’re a bit behind on your beauty sleep.  And you could use a bath.  Maybe some new clothes too.  I bet Will could lend you some.”

 

Arthur frowned at her.

 

“Oh Will?  He’s my best friend. After his da died, my mum took him in.  More like a brother now, I guess.  He’s around your size.  How old are you anyways?”

 

The prince held up one finger in his right hand and two in his left.

 

“Three?  No, twelve!  Oh good.  Me too.  Will’s fifteen.  He’s going through that phase when he thinks he’s _way_ better than everyone else, you know?”

 

Arthur didn’t know but he nodded along anyways.  This was probably the longest conversation he’d ever had with someone, if you didn’t count people lecturing him while he sat silently.  Not that he was really actively participating.  But it was nice, he found, having someone just talk at him about nothing of importance.

 

“You gave me a right scare earlier, you know that?  I thought you were dead.  My mother sent me out to catch some crabs, ‘cause they’re feeding this time of day, and she wanted some for dinner.  So I was sitting on the dock when I saw you just bobbing around like a cork.  I jumped right on in and fished you out.  I’m glad you’re not dead,” she continued conversationally.  “The last man we found last week was dead as a post.  Happens a lot when you live this close to the sea.”  Merlin nodded sagely.

 

They stopped in front of a small house.  It wasn’t much.  The light blue paint was peeling and you could see the darker rectangles where the shutters had been.  A rusty weathervane creaked in the light sea breeze.  Instead of grass, the lot in front was filled in with gravel, peppered with scrawny weeds. 

 

The second story window banged open.  A boy with messy brown hair and a ruddy face poked his head out the window.  “Merls you back already?  Did ya catch anything good…”  He stopped.  “ _Mum_!  Merlin’s come back with a _booooy_.”

 

Merlin shook her head and stomped up the porch steps with Arthur following her apprehensively.  The boy from upstairs clambered down to the landing, before giving up and sliding the rest of the way down the banister to meet them.  A kindly looking woman wearing an apron appeared in the hallway that led to the rest of the house.  From her motherly expression and resemblance to Merlin, Arthur knew this must be her mum.

 

“Merlin, dear, what’s going on?  Who’s this?  And why are you all wet?”

 

“Hold on, I’ll explain in a minute.”  She led them all into the kitchen and poured Arthur some water.  “Better?”  After he’d gulped it all down.

 

Arthur nodded.  “Thanks,” he rasped.

 

She turned back to the other two.  “I found him unconscious just off the west dock.  So I went after him and pulled him out.”

 

“Oh!” Merlin’s mother looked concerned.  “You poor dear.  Sit down.  Make yourself comfortable.”  She fussed with him, giving him a bowl of lumpy porridge and checking him over for injuries.

 

The boy, whom Arthur deduced was Merlin’s ‘brother’ Will, was standing in the corner giving him an inscrutable look.  Merlin must have noticed too, for she said, “Will, whatever it is, spit it out.”

 

He contemplated his words for a second.  “He’s one of those good-for-nothing sea dogs innit?”

 

Arthur studied Will intently up close.  He had the type of bone structure that Arthur was sure all the girls at home would be over the moon about.  But at the moment his face was doing nothing but annoying the prince.  A lot.

 

“It is an _honor_ to be a Mariner,” Arthur gritted out.

 

“Let me guess, that’s what your rich daddy taught you to say.”

 

Arthur grimaced.  His father hadn’t had the time to teach his son life lessons.  It was Sir Leon who had told him that.

 

“Unnatural it is,” Will was saying. “Livin’ on the sea like that.  A man’s got to live with his feet on solid ground, thank you very much.  Who are ya anyways?”

 

Arthur put on his most disdainful expression.  “Prince Arthur Pendragon of the Kingdom of Camelot.”

 

Will only snorted.  “Right, and I’m King William of Ealdor, welcome to my humble abode,” he deadpanned.  “Come off it, mate.  You’re not fooling anyone.”

 

“No really,” Arthur insisted.  “I’ll show you.  Do you have a silver piece?”

 

“As if.  Now you want our money _and_ our hospitality?”

 

Merlin’s mother silenced him with a stern look.  “Which we would offer regardless of who you are.”

 

Will, sufficiently cowed by her rebuke, stopped talking.

 

Merlin silently reached into a jar sitting on the counter and handed Arthur the coin he asked for.

 

“Thank you Merlin.”

 

Merlin’s mother nudged Will.  “See?  This young man has good manners too.”

 

Arthur feared Will’s glare would burn holes in his head.  He held up the silver piece Merlin had given him.  “See look, that’s my likeness on the coin.”

 

Will sniffed haughtily.  “Big deal, you have a face with a nose.  That could be a picture of me for all we know.  Nobody’s ever seen heads or tails of this stinking prince.  You’re probably some noble’s son.” It was true though, the profile on the coin, in addition to being very small, was pretty ambiguous,

 

“ _Will_.” Merlin whined.  She just wished they’d all get along.

 

“ _Merlin_.”

 

“Stop giving him a hard time.  I believe him.  Why would he be trying to pull one over on us?  We’re a bunch of Terrestrials living in the middle of nowhere.  Why on Earth would he care what we think?”

 

Arthur wanted to tell her that she was wrong.  He did care what they thought of him.  Well maybe not Will.  But Merlin and he mother, even though they’d only just met, made him desperately want to please them.

 

It was surprising over the following days as Arthur stayed at Merlin’s house.  He wouldn’t admit this to anybody, but he really enjoyed being fussed over.  Hunith, he learned Merlin’s mother was called, never passed up an opportunity to push more food at him or worry over his health.  She treated him like the rest of her children and didn’t seem to care he was royalty.  Coming from her, it was like a breath of fresh air.  But coming from Will, it was just plain irritating. The boy just did not understand propriety and figured out every way to get on Arthur’s nerves.  He was constantly making snide remarks and insolent jokes about his father’s wealth and rank.  Arthur really, really wanted to shake him.  But he refrained from doing so because it would make Hunith and Merlin upset.

 

Then there was Merlin.  She always seemed a little reserved around him, but always earnest.  Every morning, she’d make the long walk to the other side of town to inquire about his yacht and try to wire his father.  Arthur really admired that about her.  She was never fake. She was doing it for him, Arthur the boy, not the prince, with no motive other than kindness. Arthur only wished she’d relax around him.  He’d seen her talking animatedly and joking with her mother and Will, but went silent when he was present.  Especially when he talked about his life on the ship.  She wasn’t the chatty girl he’d met on the first day.  Arthur privately wondered if something was troubling her.

 

A few days in to his stay, Arthur came back from helping the men of the village with the fishing to a tense house.  Hunith had a clench in her jaw and a certain stiffness about her movements.  Merlin wasn’t speaking at all and even Will was subdued.

 

“I’m back!  Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”  His attempt at lightness fell flat.  He could almost feel the animosity rolling off Will in waves.

 

He rinsed off his hands in the sink and went to help Merlin cut the vegetables.  “Is something wrong?” Arthur asked in a low voice.

 

Merlin just looked at him for a long moment, wearing a measuring gaze.  “I want to come with you.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket.  It was a telegraph from his father’s assistant.

 

_Stay there.  Will come get you in 5 days.  Wait at W Dock. End._

 

“I want to come with you,” Merlin repeated.  “When they pick you up.”

 

Suddenly, Will’s thinly veiled glares and Hunith’s drawn expression made sense.

 

“You can’t,” Arthur said automatically.

 

Merlin’s knuckles whitened around the handle of her knife.  “Why not?”  He could detect a slight waver in her voice.

 

“You belong here, Merlin.  Your family needs you.”  Even to his own ears, the argument sounded weak.

 

“Why?” She asked sharply.  “You think I’m selfish too?”

 

Arthur stayed silent.  If he was honest, he was a bit nervous of the paring knife in Merlin’s hands, which was savagely attacking the potatoes.

 

Merlin’s voice lowered.  “I’m tired of this town.  There’s nothing here for me, it’s holding me back.  I know there’s something out there for me.  Something bigger.  I don’t want to spend my whole life cleaning fish with the rest of the wives then dying on this stupid island.  I don’t belong here,” she pleaded.

 

And some part of Arthur recognized that.  Merlin’s enthusiasm, her diligence, her determination were far beyond Ealdor.  She was destined for something greater.  Then Arthur thought of his own life, and of the people back home.  They were vicious, greedy, and cruel.  Maybe it was better to be caged up than trampled over. Merlin’s naivety, her spirit wouldn’t last a day on board _The Dragon’s Call_.

 

“I think,” Arthur said carefully, “it’s better for you to stay here.”

 

The knife clattered to the ground and Merlin’s face showed hurt and betrayal.

 

“Merlin…let me explain.”

 

Her fierce expression made Arthur take an involuntary step back.  “I think you’ve said enough.”  She turned around and marched off.

 

Coming from anyone else, it might have been rude.  But Arthur was too busy struggling with guilt to notice.  Great now he’d upset Merlin.  Should he go after her or give her space?  Arthur wasn’t very good at this.  As Crown Prince, he was never wrong and he would never even think of demeaning himself to the level of consoling another. 

 

But Merlin was different.  Arthur wanted to deserve her compassion, to be a better person for her.  And that was scary.  It was something he’d never felt before for anyone, not even his father.  With his father, Arthur wanted to be smarter, stronger, someone he’d be proud of.  No one had ever made him strive to be nobler or more virtuous.  And now, Arthur wanted nothing more than to redeem himself in Merlin’s eyes.

 

That was why he mounted the steps apprehensively to face Merlin.  Arthur knocked gently on the door frame, steeling himself mentally for a tongue lashing.  There was no response.  He’d didn’t really want to just walk into Merlin’s room for that felt like a gross overstep of privacy.  Finally, after standing there and feeling increasingly stupid, Arthur ducked his head around the corner.

 

The room was a mess.  Arthur knew Merlin didn’t have many belongings, yet somehow she had managed to carpet the floor with them.  But it was easy to see, at first glance, that there was no Merlin in the room.

 

He went back into the hallway, thoroughly confused.  Arthur had definitely seen Merlin come up here.  He knew she wasn’t in Will’s room, because he had locked the door before going out to chop firewood.  And she wasn’t in the bathroom or linen closet either.  Hunith’s room was downstairs so there was nowhere left to hide.  Where had Merlin gone?

Then Arthur saw it.  He’d ventured into Merlin’s room to see if she was hiding under the bed.  When he came out from under the cot, Arthur saw that the door to her closet had been carelessly left wide open.  The prince noticed ruefully that Merlin owned only a few articles of rough-spun clothing while he owned hundreds of extravagant outfits that he’d only worn once.  An inconspicuous ladder was leaning against the wall in her closet. Yet it was what was above the ladder that had caught his attention.  It was a trapdoor.

 

So Arthur, being Arthur climbed up the rickety ladder and cautiously opened the trapdoor.  When he poked his head into the room above, he was surprised to find Merlin sitting crossed legged, staring at him expectantly. Merlin really was an enigma; one moment she was angry and the next she was calm as hell just sitting there.  But if dealing with Morgana had taught him anything, it was to just go with it.

 

Arthur sat down right across from her.  They just looked at each other in silence for a while.  To Arthur it could have been anywhere between seconds to an hour.  He idly noticed that Merlin’s eyes were extremely bright.  Especially when they reflected the flickering kerosene lamp.  And that they were blue.  Very, very blue.  He could almost feel himself drowning in them.  But it wasn’t scary at all, in fact, it was comforting and almost familiar.

 

“I’m surprised it took you so long.”                                  

 

Arthur focused on her.  He shrugged.  “I didn’t want to go into your room.  I thought it’d be rude.” 

 

“Of course you did.”

 

The prince decided not to read into that comment.  He glanced around the room for the first time.  It was some sort of attic-loft thing with sloped ceilings.  All around, lining every wall, were books.  There were big ones and small ones, leather bound and hard covers.  Some were nothing more than stacks of parchment sewn together.  Arthur could see fat, dusty tomes and slimmer, glossy chapter books.  It was obvious which ones were her favorites, though.  Those novels were dog-eared and the spines were cracked with use.  Arthur wondered if Merlin had actually read all of these books for many of them looked pretty advanced. 

 

Among the shelves was a strange assortment of items. Snippets of twine and scraps of cloth sat in a glass jar.  Arthur assumed these were for bookmarks. The rest of the stuff was harder to explain away.  Figurines of dragons guarded an ivory statue of a unicorn.  A pair of brass scales perched on a ledge.  There was even, what looked like an anchor trying its best to hide in the corner.

 

But for all the random objects and motley collection of books, the little library was neat.  Unlike Merlin’s room, the books, from what Arthur could tell, were by sorted by subject and alphabetized by author.  Maps were rolled up and stuck in a claw-footed umbrella holder near the geography section.  Arthur caught his eye on a ship in a bottle, which brought him back to why he was there.

 

“Merlin, about earlier…”

 

“Arthur, it’s fine.”  Merlin looked resigned but no longer angry.  “You don’t know me and I don’t know you.  I had no right to get upset.”

 

Arthur frowned.  “How can you be so calm about this?  If it were me, I’d be throwing things right now.”

 

The corner of her mouth quirked.  “So you throw tantrums often then?  No, but you forget that I live with Will.  I have a pretty high tolerance for stupidity.”

 

“Oi!  Are you calling me stupid?”

 

“Depends.  Are you gonna have me arrested if I do?”

 

“I’m considering it.”

 

Merlin grinned but went serious again.  “I wanted to explain to you why I want to go.  You don’t have to change your mind, but I’d like it if you’d listen.”

 

Arthur nodded.  He was seriously reevaluating his opinion of Merlin now.  She was levelheaded and mature, not to mention really smart, with the tact of multiple council members combined.

 

“About fourteen years ago, my mother met my father.”

 

The prince didn’t exactly understand what this had to do with their situation but knew it was impolite to interrupt.

 

“He was on the run and a mutual friend had directed him to our village.  You see, he was what you would call a pirate.  But he didn’t start out that way.  My father began as a merchant and then a privateer for your father.  But then your father betrayed him and forced him to capture his own kin.  My father escaped but the king had him named a traitor and put a bounty on his head.  He had to turn to not-so-honorable methods to stay alive.  But my mother let him in and hid him in this very room. I was about five years old when the royal guards showed up again and he had to leave. We were told by his first mate, several years later that he had perished in a shipwreck.

 

“That’s why I want to go.  Living at sea is in my blood, Arthur.  I want that freedom, that adventure.  But my mother is against it.  She’ll never let me go,” Merlin finished sadly.

 

“She’s worried about you,” Arthur pointed out gently.  “She doesn’t want to lose you too.”

 

“I know.  But does that make it right to lock me away and clip my wings?  I just think it’s unfair for her to run my life.  If I want to take the risk, I should be allowed to, since I am willing to accept the consequences.”

 

Arthur didn’t know how to respond to this.

 

“And I want to find out more about my father.  Ever since I was a kid, I’d run out to every ship that stopped here for supplies to look for my father. I was so crushed when his first mate told us the news.”

 

“I know how you feel.  I’d do the same to learn about my mother.”  Arthur looked away when his eyes started prickling.  He’d never revealed that fact to anyone.  After seeing his father’s stony features when he’d asked about his dead mother as a child, Arthur didn’t bring her up anymore.  But that hadn’t gotten rid of the burning curiosity he felt inside.  How could someone be the queen of the world, yet after her death, not a single person was willing to tell her son about her?

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said softly.  “I’ll do everything I can to help you find out more about your mother, if you give me this chance.”  She took in the prince’s vulnerable countenance.  It was a state that he hadn’t let anyone see him in since his father had lectured him on the weakness in emotions.  His father.  That’s what it all came back to, wasn’t it?  His father had torn this family apart and left a young girl with only a mother.  He probably wasn’t even aware of the pain he’d put Merlin and Hunith through.  And if he was, Uther most likely wouldn’t care. After all, he had left his own son to grow up without any parental figures.

 

Arthur loved his father and respected him, but right now, all he felt was an undeniable anger.  For some inexplicable reason, he felt obligated to rectify his father’s mistakes.

 

“Fine, Merlin.  You’ve won me over.”  She cheered.  “But wait.  I have a few conditions.”  Merlin sobered up right away.  “My world is a lot different from yours.  If you can’t take it for any reason, you have to tell me and I will send you back.  Got it?”

 

Even though they were the same age, Arthur felt a strange sense of protectiveness towards Merlin that he couldn’t explain.  He knew better than anyone what the court did to innocent little souls like Merlin.

 

She nodded eagerly.  “Anything else?”

 

“You get your mother’s permission first.”

 

The smile on her face faltered.  Merlin swallowed.  “Ookay. Got it.  That’s all?”

 

“Is that not enough?  I can come up with a few more if you want…”

 

Merlin shoved at his shoulder.  “Shut up.”

 

“I have a question though.  I get why Hunith doesn’t want you to go, but why does Will resent me so much?”

 

This made her laugh.  “Because he’s jealous.  And because his father hated nobles.  And I guess he doesn’t want me to leave either.”

 

“If it’s too hard on all of you…”

 

Merlin jumped up.  “Don’t you dare, Arthur Pendragon. Are you going back on your word?”

 

“Of course not!  Knight’s honor.  My father has done your family a grievous wrong.  It is my duty to…”

 

Merlin was already shaking her head.  “No way, Arthur.  If you’re only doing this out of a sense of responsibility then I won’t go.  I don’t need your pity.  I don’t want to be a burden you felt compelled to take on.”

 

“But you won’t be,” Arthur insisted.  “I like you.  We’re friends right?  I can get you a job around the ship.”

 

“Doing what?” Merlin asked dubiously.

 

“Doing…doing…” Arthur looked around at a loss.  “Oh, I know!  You can be my governess!”

 

She spluttered.  “Your _what_?”

 

“My governess.  You know, like a teacher.”

 

“I know what it means, Arthur.”

 

“Oh.”  He blushed a little.

 

“I mean, why would you want me to teach you?  I don’t know anything.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the extensive library around them.  “So what’s all this for, firewood?  Come on Merlin, admit it, you’re probably brilliant.  And you’d be doing me a favor.  I only have a week until my deadline.”

 

“What deadline?”

 

“My father gave me a month to find a tutor and if I can’t find one, he’s foisting Aredian on me. And trust me, I’d rather you than him.  At least you don’t have a stick up your…”

 

“ _Arthur_!”

 

“Right. Sorry.  What I’m trying to say is, I really, really need you to do this for me.  Please?”

 

Merlin sighed.  “Whatever.  But don’t blame me if I suck.  And this _is_ only theoretical.  My mum hasn’t let me go yet.”

 

That turned out to be their biggest obstacle.  Hunith was firm in her decision.  It was too dangerous so Merlin’s couldn’t go.  Arthur didn’t know what to do.  On one hand, he didn’t want to upset his gracious host, but on the other, he did need a tutor and hopefully a friend.  Merlin was already making plans to sneak out, but Arthur wouldn’t let her.  They had to do this with Hunith’s permission.  He didn’t want to be the cause of a family rift.

 

The day they were coming to get him dawned clear and cloudless.  Arthur hoped this was a good sign.  They hadn’t made any headway with Hunith.  Merlin had done everything, throwing fits, throwing plates, and even spontaneously bursting into tears.  Nothing worked.  Arthur knew Merlin had all her meager belongings packed along with her favorite books.  All they had to do was make Hunith see sense.

 

Merlin, Arthur, Hunith, and Will waited at the western dock as the cruise liner sailed closer and closer.  Arthur could now make out the dragon figurehead mounted on the bow as well as the gold painted scales.  It stopped several hundred yards out and dropped its anchor.  The bay here was too shallow for a gigantic ship like that. A rowboat was lowered with several men in livery.  Arthur recognized the bearded faces of Sir Leon, Sir Bedivere, and Sir Hector.

 

Merlin was desperately making a last minute petition to her mother.  “Please mum, I can swim.  I’ll be fine.  Look at all the safety features on that thing.  Arthur’s lived on it for thirteen years and he’ll tell you.”

 

Hunith pursed her lips but said nothing. 

 

Merlin tried a different tactic.  “Mother if you don’t let me go, I’m never talking to you ever again.”

 

“Merlin,” Will muttered.  “Won’t you give it a rest?  Why do you want to leave us so bad?”

 

She turned to her brother.  “It’s not like that Will.  It’s my dream.  It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 

The rowboat was drawing closer and Arthur was dreading the moment it docked.  It was too late.  All of Merlin’s frantic pleading wasn’t going to make Hunith budge.

 

He nodded at Will and let Hunith hug him.  Then he turned to Merlin and hugged her too.  “I’m coming back for you,” he whispered fervently.  “I won’t forget.”

 

Then, without looking back, Arthur greeted the knights and was rowed back to _The Dragon’s Call_.  He was silent as the pulleys jerkily lifted the little boat up to the deck.  Arthur allowed himself one last look at Merlin’s dejected form and instantly wished he hadn’t.  He felt horrible, thinking of all the ways he could have fought harder for her.

 

Arthur was so preoccupied that he ran right into Gaius.

 

“My apologies, sire.”  He looked at the prince closely.  “Are you all right?”

 

“Yes, yes.  Hunith fixed me up.”

 

Gaius stared at him, astonished.  “ _Hunith_?  Hunith Emrys?”

 

“Um.”  Arthur was just realizing he had no idea what Merlin’s last name was.

 

The physician squinted at the shore.  “That could be her!  I’d forgotten she lived in Ealdor.  And that must be young Merlin.  I haven’t seen her since she was just a child.”

 

“Hold on. You know Merlin?”

 

“Know her?  Her mother is my niece.”

 

Gaius gave him a concerned look when his eyes lit up.  “That’s brilliant, Gaius!  You must come back to shore with me to thank them in person.”

 

Somehow Gaius found himself in a wobbly rowboat heading back to Ealdor.  The prince was bouncing with excitement next to him.

 

“Are you sure you’re quite all right, my lord?”

 

Arthur gave him a maniac grin.  “Never better, Gaius.”  He abruptly changed the subject.  “What do you think is the chance of drowning on the _Dragon_?”

 

Gaius blinked, taken aback.  “Slim to none, I’d say.”

 

If possible, Arthur’s beam grew brighter.  “Just as I thought, thank you.”

 

Merlin was sitting on the dock watching them with a perplexed expression.        “Arthur?  Did you forget something?”

 

That alarming smile stretched even wider.  “Just you.”

 

She laughed out loud, jumped up and went to fetch her mother.  By the time Hunith came back, Arthur was helping Gaius out of the boat.

 

“Gaius?”

 

“Hunith, my dear.  It is good to see you.”  He embraced his niece.  “And this must be Merlin.  My, have you grown since I last saw you.  You were always such a pretty child.”

 

Merlin gave her great-uncle a distracted smile and returned her gaze to Arthur.  He reassured her with a look.  Everything was going to work out because this time, he had a game plan.

 

“Gaius, how long have you lived on _The_ _Dragon’s Call_?” Arthur inquired.

 

The elderly physician regarded him suspiciously.  “Nearly twenty-five years, sire.”

 

“And how many accidents have there been?”

 

“I don’t understand, sire.”

 

“Leaks, crashes, storm damages, shipwrecks?”

 

“None, sire.”

 

“I know what you’re trying to do, Arthur.” Hunith cut in.  “My answer is still no.”

 

“But Hunith, technology has changed since you lost Merlin’s father.  The _Dragon_ is perfectly safe,” Arthur persisted.

 

“Arthur, please don’t bring Balinor into this.”

 

Gaius looked between them.  “What is this about?”

 

“Uncle Gaius,” Merlin piped up.  “I want to live on the _Dragon_ with you.”

 

“I don’t see why not.  As long as Arthur doesn’t have a problem.”

 

The prince shook his head.

 

Gaius looked pleased.  “It’s perfect.  I was looking for an assistant actually…”

 

Hunith glared at her uncle.  “Gaius, you know how I feel about those boats.”

 

“Hunith, times have changed.  I regret the loss of Balinor too, but I promise you, there is nothing to worry about.  Would Uther really put his own son and heir on a ship that wasn’t a hundred percent safe?  I will take full responsibility for Merlin and she can always come back and visit.”

 

Arthur could see her rock hard defense was cracking.  “I have a job lined up for Merlin as my tutor. She’ll be part of my household and she will be paid generously. Gaius and I will look out for her.  If anything goes wrong, she can take one of my yachts back here.”

 

“Oh, please mum, please, can I?”  Merlin was making honest to god puppy eyes and Arthur was wondering how Hunith wasn’t melting yet.  Then again, she was probably immune to it by now.

 

She finally caved.  “All right Merlin, you may go.  You’re bags are all packed already aren’t they?”

 

Merlin grinned sheepishly.  “Thank you mum! Thank you, thank you, you’re the best mum ever!”  She ran all the way back to her house with a ridiculous smile plastered on her face.

 

Together, with the help of Will and Arthur, Merlin managed to get all of her bags loaded in the rowboat.  She flung her arms around Will’s neck and hugged him tightly before moving on to cling to her mother. 

 

Arthur shook hands with Will gruffly.  “Take care of her,” he said not meeting Arthur’s eyes.

 

The prince nodded.  “I will,” he promised.

 

Merlin’s mother, after saying a tearful goodbye to her daughter, hugged Arthur for the second time that day.  “Merlin’s a good girl, just needs some more sense in her sometimes.  You two be careful, okay?  Watch out for each other.”

 

“Of course Hunith.  You take care.  We’ll see you soon,” Arthur promised.

 

The three of them clambered into the rowboat and untied the tether.  Merlin faced shore the whole time, waving to her family.  She was smiling even as tears streaked down her cheeks.

 


	3. Enemies and Friends

**Chapter 3 – Enemies and Friends:**

 

 _The Dragon's Call_ was magical. There was simply no other word for it.   For Merlin, who had never seen anything bigger than a few wooden merchant ships and private yachts, this was nothing short of breathtaking.  How could anything that big and that heavy possibly stay float? She made a mental note to look that up later.

 

If the outside, painted gold and tinged green from the sea water, was amazing, it was nothing at all compared to the inside. Merlin had to stop and pick up her jaw from where it dropped to the floor. "You actually _live_ here?" she asked incredulously. "And you want _me_ to live here?"

 

Arthur only shrugged. "It's not as great as my father's ships."

 

 _Ships_ plural. Merlin felt faint. People actually owned multiple of these things? If she wasn't feeling insignificant before, Merlin sure was now.

 

Everybody seemed happy to see Arthur back.  But he told Merlin later, it was likely they were only relieved none of them had to suffer Uther’s wrath had he actually died.  Most of them would probably be happy if Arthur had drowned.

 

Merlin found this strange.  Did any of the nobles ever just express what they actually felt?  Or was everything processed shrewdly and twisted for maximum gain?  She wasn’t sure if she was able to deal with people like that.  Then Merlin remembered the promise she made to Arthur.  If anything at all was too hard for her to handle, she was going to be sent home.  Merlin decided right then and there she would, in no way, let herself get sent away after struggling to get here in the first place.  No matter what happened.

 

Then something happened less than an hour after boarding that made Merlin more certain than ever in her conviction.

 

Arthur was showing Merlin around the boat, pointing out people and places of importance.  Gaius had just checked her for the usual diseases and pronounced her healthy.  They were on their way to visit the dining hall, when a pretty girl sidled up to Arthur.  Or at least Merlin thought she was pretty until she opened her gloss-smeared mouth.

 

“ _Arthur_ ,” she purred.  “You’re back!  I really missed you.”  Then she pulled a ridiculous pout.  “Where’d you go?  Why didn’t you take me with you?”

 

The prince gave her an odd look.  And to think he used to believe himself in love with Sophia.  “Soph, I almost drowned.”

 

That pulled her up short.  She blinked rapidly as this information sank in.  “ _Arthur_ ,” Sophia simpered.  “I’m so glad you’re all right.”  She wiped away a fake tear.  “I don’t know what I’d do if you died.  I was so worried.”

 

Arthur nodded awkwardly, not sure how to get rid of her.  Though it was impressive how good she’d gotten at lying to his face.

 

"Oh Arthur, where’d you pick that one up?"

 

"What?" Arthur looked around confused.

 

"Oh you know," she lowered her voice to a stage whisper. "That _bumpkin_ that's following you around."

 

Arthur followed Sophia's line of sight and saw Merlin awkwardly standing by the window. He knew she had heard because the tips of her ears were turning red.

 

"Oh that's my friend Merlin, she's going to tutor me."

 

Sophia sent a sneer Merlin's way. "I didn't know the rubes knew _how_ to read."

 

Before Arthur could tell Sophia off, Merlin stiffened and stalked away. The prince glared at Sophia. "It would behoove you to keep you mouth shut _Lady Sophia_."

 

Some of his annoyance must have filtered into her dull mind since he could hear her affronted squawk down the corridor. 

 

Merlin was irritated, but mostly with herself.  Obviously it wouldn’t be that easy to fit in.  She had underestimated the sort of attitude these people had. But Merlin swore to herself that she would be the better person.  She would be strong and would not let those kinds of comments hurt her.  Merlin wanted to prove to not only her mother and Arthur, but also to herself, that she _could_ do this.

 

After Merlin had left Arthur with that complete _cow_ , she decided to wander the hallways. Of course, being completely new to the ship, she got lost within minutes.  All of the corridors looked exactly the same.  Plush carpet, tastefully boring artwork and shiny light fixtures that were undeniably fascinating. The people were no help either.  The ones that were obviously nobles in their bizarre “fashionable” clothing, looked right through Merlin as if she didn’t exist.  The servants were too busy rushing about on errands to spare her a look either.

 

Merlin eventually found herself in the dining hall they’d been headed to earlier.  It was stunning.  And one of the stuffiest places she’d ever seen.  There were crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling and heavy damask drapes gracing the paneled walls.  Delicate little square tables held four place settings, each with elaborate porcelain plates surrounded by numerous utensils in various shapes.  Servants dressed in impeccably matching livery strutted around, balancing lurid colored drinks on little silver platters.  Merlin was so captivated with the room that she didn’t register the girl heading her way.  The resulting crash garnered multiple scandalized looks and made Merlin’s cheeks burn.

 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. I –”

 

The girl looked up from where she was picking up silverware from the ground.  She smiled, a kindly smile that set Merlin at ease.  “It’s all right.  I’m Gwen.”

 

Merlin quickly knelt down to help.  “I’m Merlin.”

 

“Are you new here?”

 

Merlin nodded. “I just got on at Ealdor.”

 

Recognition flashed across the Gwen’s face.  “Oh!  You’re the one who saved Prince Arthur.”

 

The blush was creeping its way back up Merlin’s face.  “Yeah.”

 

“Welcome to _The_ _Dragon’s Call._ What do you think of it so far?”

 

“It’s big,” Merlin admitted.  “And everything’s so fancy.”

 

“You get used to it eventually. I –”

 

“Merlin!”

 

She whirled around.  Arthur was approaching her with a confident stride but Merlin noticed the uncertainty etched on his face.  “Hey,” she said softly.

 

“About earlier…Soph is…she’s…well, she’s difficult.”

 

Merlin accepted this in stride.  “It’s not your fault.”

 

Arthur nodded.  “I know.”  There was a beat of silence.  “My father wants to formally thank you.  He’ll be throwing a ball tonight on the _Queen Ygraine_ and you’re to be the guest of honor.”

 

Merlin stared at him, flummoxed.  “A _ball_?”

 

“Yes _Mer_ lin.  Are you daft now too?”

 

She glared at him.  “I think I’ve had enough insults to my intelligence today.”

 

That made Arthur a little more contrite.  “Right, forgot.  I’ll take you to the seamstresses now to get something made.”

 

Merlin gawked.  “Something made?  Oh no, I couldn’t.  I’ll just borrow something…”

 

Arthur frowned.  “What’s wrong?  What makes you think you have to borrow something?”

 

“Well, it’s just that dresses are expensive, and they take a long time to make and…” She trailed off when she noticed Arthur laughing.

 

“Merlin, it’s fine.  This is why we hire a lot of seamstresses.  Every ball, everyone gets a new outfit made depending on the theme and the styles of the season,” the prince explained as if this was obvious.  They really needed to make a book about all these stupid court conventions before Merlin went mad.

 

“ _Every_ ball?  You just get them specially made and then you never wear them ever again?”

He shrugged.  “Well, _yeah_.”

 

Merlin threw her hands up. They really just didn’t get it.  “Whatever.  Lead the way.”  She said goodbye to Gwen, who’d been standing there the entire time, and promised to visit her sometime.  It wasn’t until long after they’d walked away that Merlin realized how Arthur hadn’t acknowledged Gwen even once during the whole conversation.  She didn’t have time to think too hard about it because they arrived at the dressmaker’s.

 

Merlin spent the next hour being measured and prodded.  She didn’t particularly appreciate being laced into a corset either.  At least she was skinny enough that the woman didn’t feel the urge to heave on the laces and restrict her breathing just yet.

 

Madame Modiste had allowed Arthur back into the room only after dressing Merlin in a robe and disposing of her old clothing, touching the “filthy rags” as little as possible.

 

“Ah Sire.  Did you have anything in mind for the young miss?”  She seemed to be under the impression that Merlin was a _project_ for Arthur.  Merlin thought Arthur must do that often in order for Madame Modiste to jump that conclusion.  She was beginning to fully understand how out of her depth she was.

 

“Since my _father_ decided it was appropriate to host a deep-sea theme in honor of my almost drowning,” Arthur muttered dispassionately.  He lifted his head to address the seamstress. “Yes, I had a few ideas.”

 

They went over to the giant storage room where they kept bolts and bolts of every material, texture, pattern, and color of cloth humanly possible. Merlin decided to let Arthur handle it and hope it didn’t come out terrible.  Because despite Arthur being a twelve-year-old boy, he’d grown up with this lifestyle and had far more experience in clothing than Merlin.

 

Arthur and Madame Modiste returned after a long time, the prince looking satisfied while the seamstress was eyeing Merlin doubtfully.  But of course it wasn’t her place to contradict the prince when he had absolute control over this ship, and her job.  She wasn’t sure what the prince was playing at, parading this girl around.  Yes, the lass had an effortless slender figure from not growing up on the rich food they served on board, but she clearly had no idea what she was doing.  The girl really did not belong on the _Dragon_ with the rest of those self-obsessed, materialistic courtiers.


	4. Silver and Gold

**Chapter 4 – Silver and Gold:**

 

Merlin nervously smoothed the shimmery material of her dress for the hundredth time.

 

Madame Modiste had presented her with the dress only a few minutes ago. It was made of a cool gray cloth that clung to her body. The front was the color of a cloudy day while the back was a darker blue-gray. It cinched at the waist with two flaps at each hip, imitating what Modiste had called "peplum".  Then it gathered again at mid shin before flaring out like a tail to cover her feet.  It wasn't until after Merlin had put it on that she realized what it looked like.

 

She was adjusting a string of pearls she'd been given over the sweetheart neckline when a knock sounded.

 

It was Arthur, not yet changed into his outfit. He stared at her. "Wow Merlin, you look...different."

 

"Would you like to explain why you dressed me like a dolphin?"

 

"Um well. When I first met you, you reminded me of a dolphin. And you saved me, which is kind of dolphin-ish. I think it suits you," he stammered out uncertainly.

 

Merlin blinked in surprise. "Oh. All right. Then thank you Arthur. What are you going dressed as?”

 

“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.

 

She rolled her eyes but let it go. “Did you need anything else?”

 

“Just to remind you that I’m escorting you and to warn you.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“Of what court’s like.  The nobles, their daughters, and my father especially are going to be hard on you because you’re a Terrestrial and a commoner.  Just don’t listen to what they say, okay?  I’ll try to stay with you.”

 

Usually Merlin would rebel against the idea that someone needed to protect her.  But just this once, it was reassuring and not insulting to know Arthur would be by her side.

 

x-x-x

 

Arthur knocked again half an hour later.  A girl had already come around to paint Merlin’s face and slick her hair back with enough gel to drown a horse.  So now she sported cerulean eye makeup, contoured cheeks, and a stiff head of hair.

Arthur had been treated with much the same.  Gelled-back hair and buried in cosmetic powder.  His eyes had been lined with a green pencil, which Merlin had staunchly refused once she had seen sharp objects near her face.  She had barely allowed the mascara and eyelash curler, though they were torture devices within themselves.  And getting her eyebrows done wasn’t a walk in the park either.  Merlin wondered how Arthur stood all this pampering all the time.  And how he could let someone else stick a pencil in his waterline without flinching away.

 

Arthur grinned at her and offered a small nod that was befitting of his rank.  He was dressed in a vaguely pirate-like, fitted white shirt with loose sleeves and a gaping collar that would’ve been appropriate several hundred years ago.  His pants were skin tight and made of a streaky green material embroidered with gold scales.  On his fair head sat a matching turquoise crown of coral.

 

She thought he looked very handsome until it dawned on her, “Are you a… _mermaid_?”

 

Arthur’s glare went flinty.  “I am not a mermaid!  I’m a mer _prince_. It was the name of my yacht that got wrecked.”

 

Merlin gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence.  “But your yacht was named The Mer _maid_ not The Merprince, so why are you dressed as such, sire?”  She made an effort to keep a straight face, but a girlish giggle escaped her.

 

“Because… Just because,” he snapped trying to sound condescending and failing.

 

She smirked.  “Oh yes, my liege.  It must be something too complicated for my humble little common mind to fathom.”

 

Arthur nodded quickly.  “Yes, yes that.”  He changed the subject before Merlin could press further.  “Are you ready?” Arthur offered her his arm.

 

The smile fled from her face and she looked apprehensive.

 

“You’ll be fine.”  Arthur dragged her out of the room before her doubts got the best of her.  Merlin snatched her pearl encrusted clutch and prayed those girls wouldn’t eat her alive.

 

Merlin was whisked from her chambers, dragged over the plank and onto the _Queen Ygraine_.  It was even bigger and more extravagant than Arthur’s ship.  She didn’t get much time to look around before Arthur hauled Merlin before a set of enormous gilded gold doors.

 

“Announcing His Highness, Prince Arthur Pendragon, heir to the Kingdom of Camelot, Lord of the High Seas, Prince of the Mariners, and Commander in Chief of _The Dragon’s Call_ escortingMissMerlinEmrysofEaldor,” the little announcer-man finished all in one breath as Arthur swept right past him without a pause.

 

Two men dressed like toy soldiers pushed the doors open revealing a massive room where people had already assembled.  A hundred faces turned to gawk at them.  Merlin clutched the crook of Arthur’s elbow in terror.  Arthur’s other hand came up to cover hers soothingly. They glided forward slowly and Merlin was grateful that Arthur had vetoed the thin strappy heels Modiste had wanted; she could barely walk in the sandals she was given.

 

She gaped at what everyone else was wearing, feeling almost plain.  There was a near-scandalous amount of glitter, skin, and strategically placed objects on display but no one else seemed perturbed by it.

 

The worst offenders was a group of young courtiers by the far end of the room who were taking it in turns to send her nasty looks.  All of them were gorgeous, the guys were fit and the girls had flawless skin and enviably straight hair so unlike Merlin’s own.  She tried a tentative smile which only made them sneer harder.

 

“What’s their problem?”

 

Arthur followed her gaze.  “Oh those are just my friends.”

 

“You’re _friends_ with those kids?  They don’t look too nice,” Merlin observed.  To underline her point, one of the boys threw a glass of water at a servant who’d bumped into him by accident.  The rest of them only laughed uproariously as the poor servant scrambled away humiliated.

 

Arthur shrugged.  “Morris deserved it.”

 

Merlin’s mouth fell open.  “You!  I can’t believe you just said that!  You’re such a… such a… _prat_!”

 

The prince, sensing the danger he was in of being slapped, quickly backed off.  “I’ll talk to them later, okay?  It won’t happen again.”

 

She narrowed her eyes.  “You better.  Your friends are bullies and they hate me for some reason.”

 

Arthur quickly latched on to the safer subject.  “They don’t, you’ll see.  The girls just get a little territorial sometimes.”

 

Merlin glanced over at Arthur’s friends again skeptically.  They were out of their minds if they thought she was competition.  But still, it was thrilling that _they_ were jealous of _her_.

 

However Arthur’s friends weren’t the only source of malice directed her way.  Nearby, a cluster of middle-aged women were also giving her the stink eye.  As one, they migrated over to where Arthur and Merlin were standing, forming a menacing half circle around them.

 

One woman in particular glided up to Merlin and grasped her hand.  “Katrina, darling.  And you are?”

 

“Merlin, my lady.”

 

“Ah _Merlin_ ,” she pronounced her name as if it were something distasteful.  Katrina gave a cursory look up and down Merlin’s body that made her immediately self conscious and then curled her lip in disdain.  “Why, you look… _lovely_.” Katrina gave her a fake smile that Merlin saw right through.

 

“Thank you, Lady Katrina,” she replied stiffly. What a phony.  Did Katrina really think Merlin was that dense?

 

If she hadn’t figured it out earlier, this incident proved it for sure.  The people of the court were nothing but spiders spinning their gilded snares with smooth words and saccharine lies.  Merlin couldn’t trust a single one of them.  Where there no sane people living on this ship?

 

Arthur must have felt the worry she was squeezing into his arm.  “Merlin, what’s wrong?” He whispered without moving the charming smile he’d put on.

 

Merlin wished she could say that she replied with the same subtlety. “Am I supposed to look like those girls too?” She hissed, trying not to sound to accusatory.

 

Arthur carefully led her into a private corner, leaving the other guests to go back to mingling.  He sighed.  “Look Merlin, the entire point of our society is to gain social status.  Status means power and respect.  I was born into the highest rank.  So naturally, everyone here either wants to be my friend or hopefully marry me.  That’s why they’re all flaunting their daughters at me.  I knew you don’t care for that kind of stuff and you’d be uncomfortable baring yourself like those girls so I chose a classier dress for you.  I think, once they see that you’re not out to get me too, they’ll pull their claws back in.”

 

Merlin tried to wrap her head around this.  She knew she shouldn’t be annoyed at Arthur for assuming all that (it was entirely correct after all, damn him), but it felt like a personal blow to be considered “not competition”.  Merlin was just as good as those girls _and_ she was real, not just hiding behind a skimpy outfit and false personality. 

 

She nodded slowly.  “If I’m to stay at court, I’d like you to teach me about what’s expected of me.  I don’t know anything about etiquette or social ranking.”

 

He grinned.  “Okay.  But if I know anything about you, it’s that you’re gonna completely disregard everyone’s ranking and muck up the manners part too.”

 

Merlin laughed.  “It’s still nice to know what I’m supposed to do and then figure out how to do the complete opposite.”

 

Arthur’s retort was cut off by the loud trumpeters heralding the king’s arrival.  All the guests hurried to their places.  Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and led her to their spot near the throne.  She received more than one dirty look directed at her and their joined hands.

 

They announced King Uther and Lady Morgana, listing each of their numerous titles.  Merlin wasn’t exactly sure what most of them meant.  Uther entered with a beautiful girl on his arm. He was an older man with a steely gaze and a scar over one eye.  The king was dressed much like Arthur but with a gold “tail”, elaborate trident, and a bigger crown to match.  His ward, Morgana, had dark hair like Merlin, but it was stick straight and her skin was a golden tan.  She was dressed in a long sleeved, red bodycon dress with horrendously high heels that looked like crab claws.

 

“Those are vintage Alexander McQueen!” Merlin heard one girl hiss to her friend.  She had absolutely no idea what that meant either.

 

When Uther and Morgana arrived at the throne, Arthur bowed to his father and kissed his sister’s hand dutifully.  Then he elbowed Merlin until she dropped into a deep curtsy.

 

Uther began his long speech, droning on about how grateful they were for Arthur’s safety, accomplishing nothing while making Merlin increasingly uncomfortable.  Her mind wandered and settled on Morgana’s footwear.  She wondered how you were supposed to put them on, and moreover, actually walk in them.  The other girls seemed extremely impressed with them but Merlin personally thought they were quite hideous, but then again, she wasn’t well versed in Mariner fashions.  In Ealdor it hadn’t mattered.  You wore whatever you wanted, as long as you were fine with getting it wet and fishy.  As Merlin surreptitiously glanced around the ballroom, she noticed many of the costumes, were indeed, fishy. Many of them looked like they had live parts, or the parts had been alive until they were made into a sorry excuse for clothing.

 

One girl sported a barely there dress made of a fishing net adorned with the contents of a wave pool, with starfish and sea urchins hanging off her body.  Another man wore a suit entirely made of coral.  Merlin even caught sight of a real turtle shell covering the span of someone’s back.

 

It was actually pretty gross, the amount of dead sea life hanging around in the room.  And that was saying something coming from Merlin, who had grown up in a fishing village.

 

Uther’s speech was winding down as he came to his conclusion at last.  Merlin noticed she wasn’t the only one getting impatient.  A lot of the guests were shifting their feet and having whispered conversations amongst themselves.  Even Arthur had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared off at a point somewhere over his father’s shoulder.  He seemed to have mastered the technique of giving the semblance of attentiveness for he jerked himself back to attention and clapped zealously when the speech was over.

 

The orchestra, whose members had started nodding off, hastily shuffled their music and shuddered to a start.  Music of the likes Merlin had never heard before began to play.  Arthur grabbed Merlin by the elbow and towed her to the center of the dance floor.

 

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

 

“We get the first dance.”

 

“I can’t dance!”

 

Arthur grabbed her hand and placed it on his shoulder.  “Just follow my lead and try not to step on me.”  He smirked and twirled her around rather suddenly and she almost fell on her bottom in surprise.

 

Merlin ended up stomping on Arthur’s feet multiple times.  He took it manfully at first before he realized Merlin was a hopeless case. 

 

“Ow, Merlin.”

 

She quickly took a step back.  “Sorry, sorry!  But it’s not my fault.”

 

“How is it not your fault?  It’s your foot that’s crushing mine,” Arthur grumbled.

 

“Well who asked you to dance with me?  You know I have no idea what I’m doing.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be _this_ terrible.  You’re officially the worst dancer I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

 

Arthur spun her around again so Merlin had to wait until they were face to face again to snipe, “Gee thanks, Arthur.  You really know how to compliment a girl.”

 

“Actually, you should be flattered that I’m even dancing with you.”

 

He yelped when she purposefully tread on his foot. 

 

“Honestly Merlin,” Arthur complained.  “Worst.  Dancer.  Ever.”

 

“Really?  Is that why this is the third song you’ve danced with me so far?” Merlin asked with a knowing smirk.

 

The prince scowled.  “Don’t get used to it _Mer_ lin.  It’s only because I don’t want to deal with those harpies.”

 

She raised an eyebrow.  “Did you just pay me a compliment?”

 

“No!  What would give you that idea?”  The song ended and Arthur dropped her hand hastily.  Merlin was still grinning at him like a loon.  “Now go away and bother somebody else.”

 

She just laughed and wandered off leaving Arthur feeling strangely unsettled.

 

x-x-x

 

Arthur found Merlin about an hour later surrounded by a group of girls.  He spotted Sophia in the center and knew it wasn’t good news.

 

“What are _you_ supposed to be?” Vivian sneered.

 

“I’m a-”

 

Odile cut her off.  “She looks like a seal!”

 

The girls started tittering and making barking noises.

 

“I’m a dolphin!” Merlin snapped indignantly.

 

“Whatever honey, you still look ridiculous.  Who _ever_ chose that dress for you?”  Rita flipped her bronze hair.  _That_ obviously came from a bottle.

 

“I did.”

 

The girls all swiveled to stare at the prince. 

 

“It’s gorgeous,” Rita amended quickly.  “So high fashion.”

 

“Yes,” Sophia murmured, “It’s divine, does wonders for your figure.  Wish I’d thought of that.”

 

Arthur glared at them.  “That’s what I thought.  I, for one, think Merlin looks stunning,” he announced bluntly.  Merlin blushed red.  “C’mon, you’re dancing with me.”  He pulled her toward the center of the ballroom for the second time that night.

 

“I thought you said I suck at dancing,” Merlin prompted.

 

Arthur feigned innocence.  “When did I say that?”

 

She snorted and let him twirl her around.  “Thanks,” Merlin said finally.

 

“For what?”

 

“For playing knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress.”

 

“It’s no problem.  But don’t make a habit of it,” Arthur warned her.

 

Merlin deadpanned, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“Good, ‘cause those girls looked ready to attack you.”

 

“What?  You don’t think I could take them on?”

 

Arthur stared at her, bemused.  “Have you seen you?  And have you seen them?  Most of them have at least a stone on you.”

 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Merlin insisted.  “I hauled your heavy arse out of the water didn’t I?”

 

His mouth dropped open.  “Are you calling me _fat_?”  The couples dancing nearby shot them dirty looks.

 

Merlin prodded him in the side.  “I’m not calling you skinny.”

 

“This is _muscle_ , Merlin, _muscle_ not _fat_!”  Arthur looked outraged. 

 

She remained skeptical. “That’s what you want me to think.”  Then she ruined the effect by laughing out loud at Arthur’s offended expression.

 

His sulk softened at her contagious, pealing laugh.  “You’re such an idiot Merlin.”

 

x-x-x

 

The next morning Merlin woke to persistent knocking.  She opened the door so suddenly that the messenger nearly fell into her room. He righted himself and frowned at her rather haughtily.

 

“The King requests your presence immediately.”

 

“Um, okay.”  Merlin hoped she wasn’t in trouble.  She shut the door and scrubbed her face in the little basin on the table.  Then Merlin changed into one of the dresses she’d found in the wardrobe.  She parted her hair and tried to wrestle it into a somewhat presentable braid.

 

The snobby messenger stood stiffly outside her door.  That suck-up probably hadn’t moved a single bootlicking muscle in his body since stationing himself in that position.  When he noticed Merlin hanging awkwardly in the hallway, not sure what to do, the man sniffed disdainfully.  He clicked his heels together and made a perfect military right angle turn and then marched presumably toward the king’s rooms while holding his back painfully straight.  Merlin felt bad for him, but at the same time wanted to give the damn poser a swift kick to the shin.

 

“Erm, so, what’s your name?”

 

The man fixed her with a cool, expressionless look without breaking stride.  “George,” he said curtly.

 

Oh, how marvelous _._ Now the try-hard had a name to go with his perfectly bland face and less-than-sunny personality.  They didn’t exchange another word for the rest of the way.  _George_ rapped smartly on the King’s door and proudly flung it open upon receiving a bored sounding ‘ _Come in._ ’

 

The tension in the room was palpable. Uther and Arthur sat on opposite sides of a table, both of their expressions frigid.  The prince was clutching at the wooden armrests of his chair with white-knuckled fingers, while the king betrayed no emotion save the steely set of his jaw that Merlin had already begun to recognize on his son.

 

George, oblivious of the stilted silence, presented Merlin with a flourish.  “Miss Merlin Emrys of Ealdor, Sire.”  From the way George gazed at the king, you would’ve thought Uther had put the moon in the sky himself.  The man also held the same creepy reverence for Arthur, although toned down just the slightest. 

 

Uther barely glanced at his servant.  “Good, George.  You may go.”

 

George puffed out his chest at the perfunctory praise and strutted out.  The door clicked shut with a foreboding kind of finality.

 

“Ah.  Miss Emrys, was it?  Do sit.” He gestured at an extremely uncomfortable looking chair across from him.

 

Merlin sat, all the while feeling like a cornered mouse or something else like that of the helpless sort.  “Your majesties.”  She remembered to duck her head deferentially like Arthur had told her to.

 

Uther regarded her with an unwavering gaze that she could feel burning into her skull.  Merlin subtly shook her bangs into her face, for all the good that did her.  The weight of his scrutiny only amplified.  “My son tells me an interesting story.  Perhaps you could verify it for me.”

 

Merlin swallowed audibly.  She had absolutely no clue how to answer that question.  Merlin knew she had to tread carefully; Uther was a master puppeteer compared to the ladies of the court.

 

Uther continued talking anyways.  “I was not informed that your stay would be extended.”  Meaning: _I thought we were getting rid of you at the next port._

 

“Of course you are welcome to stay.”  What he really meant: _get your peasant ass the hell off my ship._   Well, maybe not that sassy.  Probably more like: _please remove yourself from my presence, now preferably._

 

The king continued.  “I hear Arthur has offered you a job.  I’m sure he misunderstood the requirements needed to fill the position.”  While actually saying: _you are nowhere near qualified to teach my son._ Merlin was actually surprised with herself.  She was reading Uther’s words pretty well, if she did say so herself (which she did).  “Isn’t that right, Arthur?”

 

They both turned to look at Arthur, whose visage pinched for a moment and then smoothed.  “Oh no, father, I believe it is you who misunderstands. Merlin is more than proficient and she’s perfect for the position. I will have her teach me.”

 

Uther’s expression soured immediately though he was careful to hide it behind an impassive mask.  “I don’t want to have to spell it out for you.  The girl is a terrestrial and common, she is neither intelligent nor cultured enough to tutor you.”

 

Merlin’s mouth fell open in shock.  He was treating her like she wasn’t sitting a mere three feet away from him.  _And_ she was a girl!  Didn’t some stupid courtly rule say you had to be nice to girls or something like that?

 

Arthur looked almost equally miffed.  “ _Father_.  I have let you choose my teachers for too long.  And may I remind you that not a single one of them has been effective.  Allow me to take responsibility for my own education for a change.  And if it does not work out, than you will get the last word and you can say ‘I told you so’.  Let me make my own mistakes and hire my own tutors.”

 

The king spluttered angrily.  “Arthur, this is preposterous…”

 

The prince ignored him.  “It’s settled then.  Merlin, welcome to the royal household.  Come to my rooms at nine o’clock tomorrow morning so we can begin,” he said briskly. “We can discuss payment and benefits later.  Good day, father.  Come with me, Merlin.”  Arthur stood up and gracefully left the room.  Merlin followed him meekly, shooting terrified glances at the still speechless king.

 

But as they crossed the threshold, Uther shouted, “Fool!  Adolescent fool!”

 

Arthur ignored him once again and just continued walking like nothing had happened.  “C’mon Merlin, stop dallying.”

 

She opened her mouth to complain but thought better of it and picked up her pace.  “Where are we going?”

 

“Back to _The_ _Dragon_.”  His face split with a sinister smirk. “I’m going to teach you how to live at court.”

 

Merlin groaned.  This was _not_ going to end well.

 


	5. White and Black

**Chapter 5 – White and Black:**

 

Five years later, not much had changed in that respect.  Merlin was still woefully inept at lady-like behavior.  It had taken ages for her to master walking and eating and curtseying was still rusty.  Luckily, there weren’t too many people who warranted that level of obeisance. Arthur had given up on it after the first fifty times Merlin had fallen on her face.

 

But much else had changed.  Arthur had become a young man, older and more mature.  His progress grew in leaps and bounds under Merlin’s tutelage. In return, he continued teaching Merlin etiquette and little courtly things one must know.  But alas, her education was not improving as rapidly as the prince’s.

 

“I’m beginning to think you’re being contrary on purpose.”  Arthur glared at her.

 

Merlin lounged on her chair, tipping it back on two legs and munching on an apple she’d pulled from her pocket.  “What would give you that idea?”

 

“The fact that you can memorize every article in Camelot’s constitution and recite the entire Code of Mariners after reading it once, but somehow, you can’t remember a simple set of court rules.”

 

“They’re not simple!” Merlin argued.

 

“Yes, they are.  At least they’re written in plain English. ‘Don’t slump’ is far easier than ‘thou shalt not deign to indolent administration’ or whatever rot you taught me this morning.”

 

“It is not _rot_ , Arthur Pendragon.  It is an important principle to live by,” she announced snottily.

 

“Yeah right.  I don’t even know what indolent means.”

 

“Wow Arthur, your life really sucks.  You are a spoiled prince living in a floating castle with an extensive library.  You party every night and girls throw themselves at you.  Oh and did I mention that you’re rich?  You are sixteen, going on seventeen, so you better man up and open a damn dictionary.”

 

Arthur stared at her.  “ _Some_ body put on their confidence pants this morning.”  And after a moment,  “So what’s actually bothering you?”

 

Merlin took a large bite of her apple and chewed with exaggerated slowness.  Arthur winced at the bead of juice that escaped from the corner of her mouth.  She sighed at his pointed gaze and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

 

Merlin considered herself lucky to have seen the real Arthur.  It seemed here at court, he hardly ever revealed his thoughts, his personality, or his real face.  Arthur always hid behind calm facades, impassive neutrality, and more makeup than was strictly necessary for a male.  She was grateful for she knew how hard it was for Arthur to, god forbid, express actual _feelings_.  It was only fair for her to be honest with him in return.

 

“I just don’t see the use.  So what if I know how to address nobility and the fine art of hand kissing or tea pouring?  Who cares?  Sophia-and-Friends won’t suddenly decide to like me. And your father will still think I have a mental affliction.  What point is there in behaving with propriety?  I’m not like you or the rest of the Mariners.  I’m not a role model or trying to impress anybody.  I’m just Merlin.”

 

Arthur considered this seriously.  “And that’s what I like about you: you’re real.  You’re lucky you don’t have appearances to keep up.  But I would be careful.  The court is heartless.  They’d exploit the first sign of weakness they see. I’ve tried to keep you away from all that these past few years, but I know I can’t hide you forever.”

 

She gave him a hopeful smile.  “Does that mean we can stop learning manners?”

 

“Depends on your behavior at the ball tonight.”

 

Merlin’s chair landed on all four legs with a _thunk!_.  “Darn.  D’you think I’m finally socially acceptable after five years of learning worthless crap from you?”

 

Arthur snorted.  “Merlin, you will never be socially acceptable.”

 

She threw her apple core at his head. It bounced off with a satisfying explosion of apple guts.  Arthur made an undignified noise and frantically pawed at his hair.

 

Merlin threw her head back and laughed, unfettered and definitely unseemly for a lady.  “And you call _me_ a girl?”

 

“Shut up and come help me.”

 

Still chortling, Merlin leaned over the desk and finger combed the apple bits out of Arthur’s silky-soft hair.  “Happy, princess?”

 

Arthur glowered scornfully.  Before he could deliver his (well thought out, biting, and very witty, thank you very much) comeback, six air-horn blasts announced the hour.  He nearly fell out of his seat in his haste.  “Shit!”

 

Merlin clapped her hands over her ears and asked in an innocent voice, “Did I just hear profanity tainting the pure lips of my virtuous prince?”

 

Arthur ignored her in favor of simultaneously trying to wiggle out of his shirt and pants.

 

“Arthur.  _Arthur_ , what the hell are you doing?”

 

“Changing my clothes, what does it look like?  The ball starts in fifteen minutes!”

 

Merlin blushed and glanced away when Arthur finally succeeded in wrenching his pants off.  “Could’ve given me some warning.”

 

“Prude.  And, Merlin, don’t you need to change too?”

 

“Hmm?  Oh yeah.  I’ll see you there, Arthur.”

 

Merlin let herself out and was immediately caught in a current of people.  Servants were everywhere as were the nobles, already primped and heading towards the ballroom.  The theme tonight was white.  Everything you wore had to be white.

 

Merlin saw frothy lace and gleaming pearls on most of the women gliding down the hall.  She saw one ensemble made entirely of sheet music and another festooned with what looked like frost-covered grapes.  A little girl who Merlin vaguely remembered seeing before had been dressed up like an albino peacock, obnoxious feathers and all.  It was very strange to see all these people with their faces heavily powdered, eyebrows and lips faded, and their hair bleached.  The uniform whiteness made it rather impossible to tell people apart.

 

So it wasn’t until they’d bumped into each other that Merlin recognized who it was.

 

“Sophia,” she acknowledged stiffly.  Merlin hated the stupid harpy, but she knew when she was out-classed by aristocracy.

 

“Merlin!”  Was it just her or did Sophia look…jumpy?  She looked a little disheveled and the silken bunny ears on her head were drooping. Merlin shrugged off the feeling the moment Sophia continued speaking.  “Gee, you’re pasty.  You look like a ghost!  I bet you could win best costume tonight, no problem.”  She glanced around twitchily.  “I’ll see you later, kay? Toodles.”

 

Merlin ground her teeth together and continued the short distance down the hall to her room.  Funny.  It looked like she’d forgotten to lock the door that morning.  Merlin shucked off her jacket and made her way to the wardrobe.  Her newly commissioned dress had been delivered last night, and though she would never tell Arthur this, she was actually excited to wear it.  Madame Modiste had worked her magic again and managed to embody the peaceful spirit of a dove in the gown.  It was simple: knee length, empire waist, and made of a sheer, floaty sort of material.

 

But when Merlin pulled it out, she immediately knew something was wrong.  The dress fell apart in her hands like ribbons.  She blinked at it stupidly for a moment until her mind finally processed what she was seeing.  The bodice and skirt were irreparably slashed, rather jaggedly in fact; looking a lot like the work of a teenage girl with a jackknife. Not a single part of the dress was salvageable unless she wanted to be an Egyptian mummy. 

 

_Breathe._ She told herself. _You didn’t even want to go in the first place.  No one will miss you._

 

By the time Arthur came around looking for her, Merlin had pretty much completely convinced herself of this fact.  She was curled up in the window, reading her book when he came in. 

 

Arthur looked like a Greek god.  Literally.  Like Apollo or something.  Well, maybe more like statue of Apollo, since he was covered in white powder from head to sandaled feet.  He was wearing a precariously short, belted toga and Merlin had to forcibly tear her eyes away from his annoyingly perfect sculpted thighs.  There was an ivory-colored laurel wreath in his pale hair and an honest-to-god lyre in his hands.

 

“Why aren’t you at the ball?” Merlin asked, confused.

 

“Why aren’t _you_?” Arthur asked right back.

 

Merlin shrugged in what she hoped was a casual manner.  “I don’t have a dress to wear.”

 

He frowned.  “What about the one you had made?”

 

She gestured to the gauzy mess of fabric sitting on the ground.  “It was a shame really.  That dress was no where near as horrendous as the other ones.”

 

“Who did that?” Arthur demanded sharply.

 

Merlin hesitated for a second too long.

 

“You know!  Tell me!  Now!”

 

Merlin only glared back at him.

 

“ _Merlin,_ ” he amended in a gentler tone.  “Won’t you tell me?”

 

“Ithinkitwassophia,” she mumbled.

 

“Pardon?”

 

Merlin sighed.  “I think it was Sophia,” she repeated a little louder, still staring fixedly at her bare feet.

 

Arthur’s expression darkened but he thankfully changed the subject anyways.  “So what are you reading?”

 

Merlin showed him the cover.  “I was thinking of having you read it.  You’d like this kind of thing.”

 

He hummed in agreement.  “You know you can borrow one of Morgana’s dresses.  Won’t you come to the ball?”

 

“Nah.  I’d rather finish my book, thanks.”

 

“Then I’ll stay here with you,” Arthur declared.

 

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin said impatiently.  “You’re the Crown Prince, you’ve got to go.  I’m only a governess, no one will notice I’m gone.”

 

He made puppy eyes at her.  “ _I’ll_ notice!  I can’t believe you’re leaving me with those hussies.”

 

“You only want me to go so you can complain to me while hiding in a corner and getting drunk.  Then you’ll dance with me as an excuse not to socialize with the other girls.”

 

Arthur grinned.  “You know me too well.  So it’s a yes I take it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Excellent, so I’ll just…”

 

“ _Arthur_.  No.”

 

The prince pouted.  “Merliiiiiin. If I have to suffer through it then so do you.  I order it.  _Pleeeease_?” 

 

Merlin’s resistance was crumbling.  Arthur just about _never_ said please.  And coupled with that killer smile and those sad pleading eyes…

 

“Fine.”

 

Arthur laughed happily.  “Aw, Merlin, I could kiss ya!”

 

Merlin looked slightly alarmed.

 

“C’mon _Mer_ lin.  What?  Do you think I have cooties or something?”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him.  “ _No_.  But you are covered in sketchy white powder and… _Get the hell away from my bed, you moron! You’re snowing on everything!”_

Arthur laughed again and danced away, shedding more plaster flakes or whatever that stuff was.  “I’m going to get Morgana.  Stay right where you are, my fair maiden.  Your prince shall be back before you know it!”  He ducked Merlin’s swat to the head and skipped out.

 

Merlin flopped back on her bed and berated herself for being such a pushover.

 

Arthur came back about ten minutes later just as Merlin finished her book, with Morgana in tow.  The king’s ward was dressed like an angel, delicate halo on her head and wings on her back.  She hadn’t bothered bleaching herself out, opting only for a thin sheen of powder that made her look like a paler version of herself.  If possible, Morgana looked more beautiful than she had before; her skin contrasting nicely with her dark tresses.

 

“Oh, you poor thing!”  Morgana clip-clopped into the room, surprisingly stable on her sky-high stilettos. She daintily embraced Merlin.  “Don’t worry, cutie.  I’ll get you fixed up in no time!” 

 

Merlin was apprehensive immediately.  Whatever Morgana had in mind probably wasn’t good. 

 

The king’s ward made shooing motions at her brother.  “Out, out, you scoundrel!”

 

Arthur flashed her that irritatingly smug grin and reluctantly left the room.

 

Morgana pushed Merlin behind the changing screen and instructed her to strip out of her simple day dress. She shivered as the cool air washed over her exposed skin.  The king’s ward eyed her critically, walking all around Merlin, who blushed and ducked her head.  What would Morgana think of her?  Merlin knew she wasn’t soft and curvy like the other girls, with her bony frame, flat chest, and knobby knees.

 

Morgana frowned. “I don’t think I have anything that will fit you, I mean look at you, you’re tiny!”  She settled her hands around Merlin’s waist to prove her point.  “I’m soooo jealous!”

 

Merlin snorted.

 

Morgana glared at her.  “Shut up, Merlin.  You’re gorgeous.  Now stay, I’ll be back in a second.”

 

There was sound of rustling and the click of heels that suddenly made sense when Morgana returned with Merlin’s bed sheets draped in her arms. She prodded at Merlin’s arms until she obediently held them straight out, feeling distinctly like a child being dressed.  Merlin got the impression Morgana received great pleasure in playing dress up with her new, life-size Merlin-doll.  The sheet was slung around her body and pinned at the shoulders.  Then Morgana cinched the billowy fabric with a golden girdle from the back of Merlin’s closet.  The overall effect was a Greek-like chiton with a daring slit that bared her right thigh.

 

Merlin did a little turn and swished her hips, enjoying the feel of the fabric caressing her skin.  “Wow. Thanks Morgs, you’re a life saver.”

 

“It’s no problem, babe.  And now my little Merlikins looks adorable.”  Morgana suddenly got an evil glint in her eyes.  “But you’re not complete without shoes!”  She rooted through the wardrobe again and pulled out the 5-inch torture devices she’d given Merlin for her birthday last year.

 

The shoes were nice _in theory_ , all thin and gold and strappy.  They resembled gladiator sandals but with the added monstrosity of high heels.  And they were a complete and utter nightmare when you put them on.

 

Merlin groaned loudly. “Ugh. _Why_?”

 

“Because they’re _couture_.” Morgana explained as if that word was supposed to mean something to Merlin. 

 

She sighed but slipped them on all the same, fumbling with the tiny little buckles.  The second she stood up, however, Merlin just knew she was going to hate every minute of this.  Her ankles wobbled and her knees wobbled and now she was awkwardly tall. Why did she let Morgana coerce her into these again?

 

When Arthur was finally let back into the room, he burst out laughing.  Merlin had to physically restrain herself from throttling him, prince or no prince.  “ _Ar_ thurrr,” she whined. “Stop it!  It’s _your_ fault that I have to wear this…this… _thing_.”

 

Arthur tried and failed to hide his amusement.  “You look fine, Merlin.  But those _shoes_ though.  Ten copper pieces says you’ll fall at least once tonight.”

 

“I’m not betting you anything.  I _know_ I’m going to fall more than once tonight.”  As she said that, Merlin stumbled over her own feet while standing still.  “ _See_?” she groused over Arthur and Morgana’s laughter.  “Shut up, we’re already late.”

 

That sobered both of them up enough to usher Merlin quickly to the ballroom in record time with minimal tripping.

 

As usual, Arthur barely waited for the poor announcer to finish saying all his titles before bursting into the ballroom.  All hopes Merlin had of entering unobtrusively were dashed immediately.  Stupid Arthur and his attention getting, hey-look-at-me-I’m-hot presence. From the instant the doors opened, every stare was trained on them.  Of course Arthur, the vain bastard, preened while Merlin wished she could sink into the ground and die right there.  And Morgana, due to some magical powers on her part, had

basically snuck into the room behind them completely unnoticed.

 

Unfortunately Uther’s keen eye had not missed their rather conspicuous entrance either.  Merlin could feel his ice-cold gaze fixed on them.  When she tried to move out of the king’s range of vision, she tripped rather spectacularly over her own feet. Luckily, Arthur’s arm caught her around the waist before she could do any real damage.  But it didn’t prevent the titters that echoed around the room, causing Merlin to blush furiously.

 

“ _Mer_ lin,” he chastised with irritation. Though it didn’t stop his hand from lingering on her waist for a second too long.

 

Merlin rolled her eyes and pushed away from him only to teeter dangerously.  In a blink, Arthur was back at her side again.

 

“Can’t you do anything without making a spectacle of yourself?”

 

“Not according to you,” she snapped bitterly before stomping off to join Gwen.

 

Arthur sighed but made his way to the high table where his father was about to begin his speech.

 

Uther stood up just as Arthur arrived at his seat.  The entire room quieted down the instant they noticed the king.

 

“Welcome all to our celebration tonight.  This ball will commence our annual week of festivities.  The next few days will be dedicated to my son, Prince Arthur, to mark the passing of his seventeenth birthday, as well as my late wife and Arthur’s mother, Ygraine, to honor her life and legacy.  Tonight also starts this year’s Tournament of Character.  I am proud to announce the theme all should aspire to exhibit this week is _chivalry_.  The winner will take the title from the reigning champion, Prince Arthur, and shall escort the Lady Morgana to the feast on the last day.  Any noble acts witnessed should be reported to my council members.  With that said, let the feast begin!”

 

At some invisible cue, servants flooded the room bearing ivory trays laden down with food.  Each of the dishes that was set down held something white.  Arthur looked around at the pale cheeses and the delicate little mushrooms, feeling strangely un-hungry.  He stayed only as long as he had to without seeming rude before making an excuse and leaving the high table.

 

Merlin was leaning against a pillar in a corner, trying to pass it off as casual.  Arthur thought it was pretty obvious that she just didn’t trust her ankles to hold her up, but maybe that was because he knew her too well. 

 

Her face lit up when she caught sight of him, their disagreement from earlier completely forgotten.  Merlin moved forward to greet him and promptly tripped over the hem of her dress, falling into Arthur’s arms. The prince automatically caught her around the waist while she steadied herself on his shoulders.  They both looked up at the same time and found themselves nose to nose.

 

Merlin’s eyes flickered from his long lashes to his nose to his lips and back up again, uncertain where to settle her gaze.

 

“Hello.” Arthur’s mouth quirked in that crooked smile of his.

 

Merlin rolled her eyes.  “Hello Arthur.” 

 

“Would the lady like to dance?”

 

She raised her eyebrows. “For someone who insists I’m terrible at dancing, you sure are persistent.”

 

Arthur only smiled wider. “Mmhmm.”  He started swaying them side to side.

 

“I find myself in this position way too often, you know,” Merlin complained.  “Why can’t you dance with someone else for a change?  I’m sure they’re not all awful people.”

 

“I would, but it’s my civic duty to keep an eye on you.  The world isn’t prepared to handle your sheer clumsiness quite yet,” Arthur informed her imperiously.

 

She pretended to swoon.  “How noble.  Prince Arthur suffering my horrid dancing for the sake of his people’s safety.  What would we all do without you?”

 

“You would fall over, that’s for sure.  You’re very lucky you have me to watch out for you.”

 

“I can stand fine on my own!  You just want to make those bitch-faces jealous.”

 

Arthur deliberately dipped his head so his lips grazed Merlin’s ear.  “Is it working?”

 

She swallowed hard.  “Yes.” 

 

Across the room, the clique (which Merlin had flippantly dubbed Sophia-and-friends) were regarding the pair with fierce scorn that just dropped from cool to near glacial.  Their emotions ranged from Rita, who was pointing and ranting, to Laurel, who looked near tears, to Nimueh, who appeared to be already plotting her revenge. 

 

Merlin shuddered and looked away.  Her eyes fell on Morgana and Gwen who were giving her thumbs up and suggestive eyebrows from the high table.  A few feet away, Uther was pinning her with a deadly glare.  Merlin quickly untangled herself from his son.

 

“Arthur!  Why don’t you go be a gentleman and get me a drink?”  She gave him a not so subtle push towards the beverage table.  “That white grape juice should do.” 

 

The prince shot her a confused look but complied without complaint.  The instant Arthur made himself scarce, the harpies of the court descended on her.

 

“Merlin,” Sophia spat.  She always seemed to be the ring leader of the rest of the air heads.  “Seems you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself tonight, you harlot.”

 

Merlin narrowed her eyes.  “Likewise, you couldn’t keep out of other people’s things.  I know what you did with my dress, Sophia.  And Arthur knows too.”

 

“Oh _Arthur_ ,” Sophia mimicked in a high falsetto.  “You told lover-boy didn’t you?  Just like the big snitch you are.  Ran right to your pwecious pwince to fix up your boo-boo.”

 

She scowled. “Arthur’s not my lover!  And I can solve my own problems. At least I don’t go to daddy and just have him throw money at it.”

 

“You have a problem with my father?  At least I have one.  _Bastard_.”

 

“Brat.”

 

“Slut.”

 

“Bitch.”

“You’re just jealous!”

 

Merlin stared at her.  “Jealous? _Me_? Of _you_? _You’re_ the one who’s jealous that Arthur can actually stand being in a room with me instead of hiding behind his governess to avoid you!”

 

“Well it doesn’t make a difference, does it?”  Sophia’s voice suddenly went sickly sweet.  “Because you see, _Merlin_ , unlike you, I am not a servant.  Arthur would never marry you in a thousand years, while I have a decent shot at becoming queen.”

 

Merlin snorted derisively.  That’s all these girls cared about, wasn’t it?  Becoming queen.  It sounded like a whole lot of work that these featherbrains couldn’t possibly understand.  Even if she _did_ like Arthur in that way (which she definitely did not), she didn’t think she would even consider the prospect of being queen. “How many times must I say this to get it through your thick skulls?  I. Don’t. Want. To. Marry. Arthur.”

 

Sophia just brushed it off.  “Your loss.  Lucky for you, since you’re not even qualified. You can thank your whore of a mother for that.”

 

_Smack_!

 

She hadn’t finished her sentence before Merlin’s hand went flying.  Sophia gawped, holding her stinging cheek where Merlin’s palm had hit her.  She twisted her features into a grotesque grimace that entirely masked all traces of her beauty.  Sophia reared her arm back and slapped Merlin just as hard across the face.  It quickly escalated from there.

 

By the time Arthur came back with two glasses of grape juice, the two were all out brawling on the floor.  Sophia yanked Merlin’s hair savagely while Merlin’s nails scratched angry red furrows down Sophia’s shoulder.  They grappled, sending fabric flying and filling the air with snarls. A ring of spectators stood around them, some observing, some egging them on.

 

Arthur dropped the drinks with a tinkle of breaking glass and ran forward to separate the two.  Merlin struggled in his arms, still trying to reach out and pummel the other girl.  Sophia cowered on the ground, curled up in an attempt to defend herself.

 

Merlin’s carefully done hair and dress were in disarray and there was a nasty bruise that covered her left cheekbone.  Sophia, who was helped up by one of her friends, looked worse for wear.  Her jaunty bunny ears had disappeared, her hair mussed, makeup smeared, and rents clawed in her silly silk dress and all over her upper body.  Arthur felt a surge of pride for Merlin coming out the victor in their little cat fight.

 

“What is going on here?” Uther’s unmistakable voice demanded.

 

Before Arthur could get a word in edgewise, Sophia quavered haltingly, ”S-she attacked me, S-sire.”

 

“Who?”

 

“H-her.” Sophia pointed a trembling finger at Merlin, who stood in the protection of Arthur’s arms.

 

“Arthur.”  Uther tone brokered no arguments.  “Hand over the girl.”

 

“Father, just let her explain…”

 

“No.”

 

“Father, please…”

 

Uther showed no indication of hearing his son.  “Guards!”

 

Uniformed men streamed forwards and Merlin yielded without a fight.  She gently peeled Arthur off of her and stepped away from the prince.  The guards immediately took her by both arms, easily dwarfing her slender frame.  Merlin didn’t spare them a glance, only having contemptuous eyes for Sophia who was faux-crying into one of the knight’s shoulders.

“Throw her in the brig,” the king instructed. “That should teach her.”

 

“Father…”

 

Uther cut him off.  “Not another word, Arthur, you hear?  Or it’ll be you joining her down there too.”

 

Arthur shut his mouth, knowing he couldn’t disobey a direct order from his father.  From across the room, Merlin met his eyes with a look that at once conveyed understanding and defiance before being escorted out of the room.

 

x-x-x

 

Merlin was led down the long corridors of the _Dragon_ and down carpeted flights of stairs.  Along the way, she caught sight of her reflection in one of the paneled mirrors gracing the walls.  Merlin was horrified to find unconcealed white smudges on her face that could come from none other than Arthur Pendragon himself.  She could clearly see where he’d brushed the hair out of her face and touched her cheek and tapped the tip of her nose.  No wonder he’d been smirking like a Cheshire cat the whole night.  It was really no surprise that Sophia had gotten pissed and all territorial when Arthur was being a prat like that.

 

The two guards flanking her tugged her away from the mirror.  Merlin scanned their faces and was surprised to learn she didn’t recognize a single man.  They must be Uther’s personal guards, brought over from the _Queen Ygraine_.  Handpicked to be cold, efficient, with absolutely no leniency.

 

They threw her in the dank brig mercilessly and the last things Merlin saw were their cruel faces leering at her from the doorway.  She barely got a chance to take in her surroundings before the heavy metal door slammed shut followed by the clang of bolts sliding home. With it, fled the remaining slivers of light, leaving Merlin alone, in the cold, damp, slimy brig with only darkness as her companion.  Moments after the guards left, all she could feel was the suffocating blackness pressing in on her eyelids, armed only with the knowledge of how easy it would be to slip into madness down here and no one would ever know.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Strength and Weakness

**Chapter 6 – Strength and Weakness:**

 

Merlin was woken by the unrelenting sound of reverberating metal.  She sat up in a puddle of fetid water.  “Yes?” she called out.

 

“Merlin?”  The voice was muffled through the thick metal door, but it was undeniably Arthur.

 

“Arthur.”  Merlin crawled towards the voice, blindly patting the ground before her.  She moved gingerly, her muscles aching after spending an entire night too terrified to move.  Then Merlin’s finger brushed against something warm and squishy and she screamed.

 

“Merlin!”  Arthur pounded on the door frantically.  “Merlin! Are you all right?  Merlin, answer me!”

 

Merlin took a shuddering breath when her desperate hands finally touched the door.  “I’m here, I’m okay.  I’m fine,” she said more to convince herself than anything else. “I’m okay.”

 

“Merlin?”  Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief.  “Don’t do that again.”

 

“Were you worried?”  Her attempt at humor fell flat.

 

“Yes, Merlin.  I was…”

 

Something skittered across Merlin’s legs and she screamed again.  “Arthur!  Arthur, are you there?”

 

“Merlin!  I’m right here Merlin, calm down.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded.  She could feel tears streaming down her face as she hammered on the door.  “Arthur, please.  Get me out of here.  Arthur, I can’t stay in here.  Let me out!  Please!”  Merlin slapped the ground, sending stagnant water everywhere with a dull splash.

 

“Shhh.  Breathe, Merlin, breathe.  I’m here with you, okay?  Nothing’s going to hurt you, I’m here,” Arthur murmured reassuringly to her, wishing he could hold and comfort his friend.  “Talk to me okay?”

 

Merlin sniffled, curling herself up as close to the door as possible.  She nodded even though Arthur couldn’t see her.  It took her a moment to find her voice again.  “W-what do you want me to say?”

 

“Anything.  Tell me anything.”

 

“It’s cold, Arthur.”  Merlin sounded so small and distant.  “It’s cold and wet and dark.  I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face.  I don’t want to be here, Arthur.  I’m scared.  I can’t deal with this again.”

 

He wasn’t sure what that last comment meant but he tried to soothe her frazzled nerves nonetheless.  “Don’t be scared, Merlin. There’s nothing to fear but fear itself, my nurse used to tell me that.  It’s all in your head.  Stay strong all right?  Just keep talking to me.”

 

Merlin took shaky breaths, _in out in out_.  “I never thought this would happen again.”

 

Arthur could hear her voice trembling though she strove to hide it.  “You said that earlier.  What does that mean?”

 

He was met with only the harsh sound of her breathing.

 

“Merlin?  You don’t have to talk about it…?”

 

She laughed humorlessly.  “But I want to.  I don’t even know why.  Just shut up and humor me.

 

“The other kids in the village didn’t like me too much,” Merlin began wryly.  “After all I was that weird bastard girl who read all the time. Will was the only one who talked to me. The two of us were exploring the caves near Ealdor and we got trapped in one of them.  The whole entrance caved in, see?  And one of the rocks knocked Will out.  I thought he’d died on me.  He came to after a while but we were stuck in there for two whole days before they found us.  We thought we were going to die in there and no one would ever find our bodies.  I had nightmares for months after that.”

 

Arthur was silent for a long time.  All Merlin could hear was the monotonous wet dripping of foul water and the ominous groaning of the ship that she’d grown accustomed to over the course of the night.

 

“I have to go back up,” he said all of a sudden.  “It should only take a moment.”

 

“What?”  She clawed at the door frame, looking for a way out.  Her mind, irrational in her fear, only caught on to his first few words.  “Where are you going?  Don’t leave me!”

 

“Merlin.  I’ll come back, I promise.” Arthur had adopted that patient tone he only used with his hounds, his horse, and occasionally small children.  “I’m going to have a word with my father to see if I can let you out soon.”

 

Merlin tried to calm her breathing.  “Right. Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, stop apologizing.  Just relax, I’ll be back before you know it.”  He tried for a lighter tone, “Don’t miss me too much!”

 

x-x-x

 

Arthur barged into the throne room of the _Queen Ygraine_ before the guards could stop him. “Father, how long do you plan on keeping Merlin in there?  My education is suffering.” 

 

Uther frowned at his son and put down the documents he’d been reading.  “Until she learns her lesson.”

 

“She’s learned it,” Arthur insisted.  “Can’t you let her out now?”

 

“She attacked a noblewoman,” the king maintained.  “It is not something to be taken lightly.”

 

“Merlin was provoked!”

 

Uther remained adamant.  “It does not matter.”

 

“She’s young, foolish,” Arthur pleaded.

 

“She is your age,” was the reply.

 

He was out of excuses now.  “Merlin has a grave mental illness,” the prince said desperately.

 

“I see.”  The king gave him a look that said he was not fooled.  “And you let yourself be tutored by a girl who is mentally ill?  I think not.”

 

 _Right_.  Maybe that wasn’t the way to go.  “Father, she is tired and she’s frightened.  Surely she’s been punished enough.”

 

“That is up to me and I say she hasn’t.  That girl needs a little discipline. It’s good for her.”

 

Arthur scowled.  Were all kings this difficult?  He took a deep breath.  It would not do to rile his father up further.  “She was defending her mother.  There is honor in that, is there not?  Merlin may not have used the right means but her heart’s in the right place.  Sire, if you would just reconsider, shorten her sentence perhaps?  Twenty-four hours is more than enough to repent.  I will have her formally apologize and it will not happen again, you have my word.”

 

Uther contemplated his son’s offer.  It was reasonable, he had no legitimate objections, and it was well presented.  The king was impressed.  Arthur was becoming a skilled diplomat.  “Twenty-four hours it is,” he relented.

 

Arthur gave him a wide smile.  “Thank you father.”

 

x-x-x

 

Merlin was let out of the brig when her twenty-four hours were up.  Unfortunately, Arthur was caught up at the second night of feasting and missed her release.  By the time he got away, she’d sequestered herself in her room with the lights out and the door firmly locked.

 

Arthur didn’t see her until the next morning when she came in with his breakfast.  Merlin looked completely normal, without a single trace of her traumatizing incarceration.  He supposed it was good that she’d had the entire night to recompose herself and maybe that level of vulnerability was better faced alone.

 

The prince accepted her sunny smiles and cheerful banter and followed her example of feigning normalcy.  They pretended what had happened the previous morning, when the brave mask she always wore had stuttered, didn’t exist, though its presence was marked by stilted laughs and pregnant pauses.  For Arthur knew better than anyone how important it was to hide those lapses, chinks in the armor where emotion and weakness shone through.  So he indulged her and played along.

 

x-x-x

 

Later that day, Merlin lounged on Arthur's bed, reading a book she was holding over her head. Arthur was at his desk struggling through an essay, his quill scratching furiously.

 

"Why don't they talk?" Merlin asked all of a sudden.

 

"Huh?" Arthur’s eyes were still glued to his paper, trying to make sense of what he just wrote.

 

"Why don't they say anything?"

 

Arthur frowned at his work and then looked up. "Merlin. You're going to have to elaborate. I have no clue what you're talking about."

 

"Why doesn't the court say anything when we," she gestured between the two of them, "are alone in the same room together? You're an unmarried man, I’m underage...."

 

Arthur shrugged. "Well, you're a servant," he stated simply as if it explained everything.

 

"So?  Am I not a woman too? Does my honor not matter at all?"

 

The prince put down his quill and looked at her seriously. "It does. It matters to me. But to my father, to the court? Not at all. I wish it weren't so, but that's the way it is, the way it's always been."

 

Merlin made this face as she struggled to put her thoughts into words.  “So…is chivalry not…valid...if you were to help a servant?  Would it count for less?”

 

“I’m not exactly sure. I guess it’s just up to the council to decide.  And the council is made up of nobles, so I guess that’s your answer.”

 

Merlin nodded slowly.  “That’s…”

 

“Twisted?  I know.”  Arthur smiled sympathetically and then bent back over his essay.

 

x-x-x

 

Merlin had been helping Gaius deliver medicine in the knights’ barracks when an awful shrieking rang out.  She ran down the hallway toward the din where she almost ran into one of the new knights, Sir Valiant.

 

“Watch where you’re going, girlie,” he snapped.  Valiant was radiating with anger and pent up frustration.

 

Merlin quickly apologized, unnerved by his hostile vibe, and moved on.  The source of the yelling turned out to be a maid wailing on the ground.  “He’s dead!  My master is dead!”

 

Merlin pushed her way through the growing crowd into a bedroom that was sparsely decorated but definitely belonged to a nobleman.  Lying on the bed was Sir Ewan, his swarthy complexion deathly pale. 

 

“Merlin!”  His maid, a sweet girl named Leila, threw herself into Merlin’s arms.  “Merlin, you have to help me, please.  They think I’ve done it!  They think I’ve killed my master.  The king, he’ll throw me in the brig, he’ll have my head.  I’m not brave like you, Merlin, I’ll die down there!  Please, help me,” she begged hysterically.

 

That was when Merlin noticed the guards standing in the room, waiting to take the girl away.  Whether it was to be questioned or straight to jail, she didn’t know.

 

Merlin hugged her, patting Leila’s back distractedly.  She wondered briefly how the maid had heard about her short stint in the brig.  “Go with them.  I’ll see what I can do.”  Merlin gave her a gentle push.  “You’ll be fine.”

 

Leila nodded, her lip wobbling and her eyes rimmed with red.  She took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back and marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

 

Merlin sent her one last reassuring smile before turning to the crowd gathered in Ewan’s chambers.  “Somebody go get Gaius, he should be in the lower town, around deck three.”

 

She heard footsteps running from the room, but didn’t look up.  Merlin was already in physician mode, where the distractions and noises dulled into the background and her focus narrowed down to one thing, her patient.  Everything had a strange sort of focus and detachment with a dreamlike quality.

 

Merlin went to Sir Ewan, feeling his neck for a pulse.  There was none.  She checked under his eyelids and listened to his chest.  He was indeed, dead.  Then Merlin looked for causes of his premature death.  Ewan had no open wounds or broken bones, there were no lumps on his head, no sores, no rashes.

 

By the time Gaius bustled in, Merlin was at her wit’s end.  There wasn’t a scratch on him, yet the knight clearly hadn’t died of natural causes.  It all pointed to one thing, poison. 

 

“Out! Now!”

 

She snapped out of her zone when she heard Gaius banishing everyone from the room. Her mentor lifted an appraising eyebrow. Merlin shook her head at his silent question.  “I don’t know.  It’s beyond me.”

 

He patted her shoulder.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  I’ve got it from here.”

 

Merlin spent the rest of the day assisting Gaius in running tests on Sir Ewan’s bodily fluids.  By the end of several hours, they were able to rule out hemlock, belladonna and monkshood.  The work was slow and tedious, leaving Merlin with far too much time to think about the dead man before her.  Gaius set her on going through his herbals, hoping she would find a match for the symptoms. Merlin’s eyes ached but she was grateful for the distraction nonetheless.

 

She was so consumed with her research that it took several shakes and a slap to the face to bring her back to reality.  “Ow!  Gaius, what was that for?”

 

The shadow standing over her chuckled.  “For neglecting your student.”

 

Merlin jumped up.  “Arthur!  I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about your lesson!”

 

“It’s fine.  I would have skived off anyways.”  Arthur had to duck to avoid her flailing arms. “Now put your arms away before you hurt someone.”

 

She grinned sheepishly and hugged herself to keep her wayward limbs out of the way. Arthur shook his head at her, trying to hide his fond amusement.  Then he saw Sir Ewan’s prone form lying on the bed and the smile melted right off his face.

 

“Now I remember why I came.”  He tugged on her sleeve.  “Hallway.  _Now_!” 

 

Merlin reluctantly followed Arthur into the hallway.  He stopped a few feet from the door and she almost ran into him.  Arthur whirled around and settled both of his hands on Merlin’s shoulders.  She looked up into his face, trying to decipher the emotions flitting across his features. 

 

He was taller than her now and she hated it.  When they were younger, Merlin had always towered over him, but recently, Arthur had somehow managed to sneakily grow taller.  How dare he.

 

“Stupid puberty,” Merlin muttered darkly.

 

“ _Oo_ kay.”  For a moment, Arthur stared at her like she was crazy, but then he got serious.  “My father is investigating Sir Ewan’s death.  I need a full report of what you know.”

 

Merlin rubbed at her face tiredly.  “He’s definitely been poisoned.  That’s all we know for sure at this point.”

 

“So it wasn’t an accident?”

 

“The poison wasn’t.  Something that fast and powerful is not a mistake,” she confirmed.

 

Arthur frowned.  “The maid?”

 

“You can question her, but I don’t think she did it.  Leila’s not capable of something like that.”

 

“Perhaps she got paid off,” he suggested.

 

Merlin twisted her mouth skeptically.  “Don’t rule her out, but have a feeling she has nothing to do with it.”   Her eyebrows furrowed.  “I’m not even sure Sir Ewan has anything to do with it.”

 

Arthur considered it shrewdly.  “You don’t think Sir Ewan was the intended target.”

 

“There’s no real reason to target him.  I don’t see what anyone would gain from his death.  We’re missing something here, something big.”

 

“That makes one thing we’re certain of.”  Arthur heaved a sigh.  “That means we have only one lead, one possible suspect, who conveniently also makes a very good scapegoat.”

 

Merlin nodded solemnly.  “We just have to prove her innocence then.  That’s all there is to do.”  There was a beat of silence that was broken by a purposeful _click-swish_ stride echoing down the corridor.

 

Morgana rounded the corner and froze at the sight of them standing in such close proximity. “Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No!” Merlin yelped at the same time Arthur said, “Yes.”

 

Arthur glowered at his half sister.  “Go away, Morgana.”

 

The king’s ward tossed her hair haughtily.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  I came here to talk to Merlin, anyways.”

 

“What is it, Morgana?”  Merlin tried to escape the cage of Arthur’s arms but he dug his fingers into her shoulder blades, bolting her in place.  She gave it up as a hopeless battle.

 

“What happened to Sir Ewan?  We were dining together only this morning and he seemed fine.”

 

Merlin opened her mouth to respond but Arthur quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.  “Sir Ewan is fine, he’s improving as we speak,” he lied.

 

Morgana seemed doubtful.  “But that’s not what I heard…”

 

“They were wrong,” Arthur said curtly.  He shepherded Merlin back into Ewan’s room, pushing her ahead of him and following closely behind.  “Good day, dear sister.”  The door slammed shut in her face.

 

Once they were safely away from prying ears, Merlin spun to face Arthur and pinned him with a furious glare.  “He’s _fine_ Arthur, is he?  Is what we call it these days?  Any more _improvement_ and he’ll be a handful of ashes! You can’t give people false hope like that!”

 

“I can and I will!” Arthur snapped.  “Especially if the other option would create a panic among the people.  I have to consider the order and safety of others first.”

 

“So you would lie to them,” Merlin sneered.  “You would betray their trust.”  She knew Arthur had a point but how could she condone his lies?  A ruler would lose the loyalty of his people if he could not be depended on to be honest.  And without his people, a ruler was nothing.

 

“I would not want to, but if it is the lesser of two evils, then I would. And if I had to chose between their love and their safety, my people’s well-being always comes first.”

 

Merlin stared at him until Arthur shifted, unnerved.  “That’s very…noble of you,” she choked out finally.

 

“Really?”  Arthur leaned in closer until she could count every fleck of color in those expressive blue eyes.

 

Gaius coughed deliberately, reminding them of his presence and shattering the loaded moment.  Merlin wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset when Arthur flinched away, color staining his cheeks. 

 

“Er. Right.  Gaius, do you need any help?”

 

The physician gave the prince a measuring eyebrow that said _I know what you were about to do with my ward so don’t even think about trying to get back in my good graces right now_. “No Sire.  It’s getting late.  You best be going to bed.  You too, Merlin.”

 

Merlin glanced out the window surprised.  It was night already? Where on earth had the whole day gone?  Thinking back to that morning felt like  trying to remember last week.  Maybe Gaius was right, perhaps she _was_ just tired. It had been a long day after all.  Merlin bid the two men goodnight and made her way back to her room to catch up on some much needed sleep.

 

x-x-x

 

The next morning, Merlin found Arthur outside her door, already dressed and bursting with restless energy.  “Morning Merlie-girlie.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at his chipperness, immediately suspicious.  “Good morning Arthur.  Do you need something?”

 

“Nope.  Just my friend Merlin.  I’m taking her to breakfast,” he beamed at her winningly.

 

But Merlin wasn’t swayed that easily, it took more than that to charm her.  “You want something.  I know you do.  I just don’t know what exactly.”

 

It took most of breakfast before Arthur deemed it appropriate to drop his bomb.  “Sooo…”  He leaned across their little two-person table.

 

“Oh my god Arthur, just say it, whatever it is, spit it out.” Merlin raised expectant eyebrows at him and then went back to cutting up her food.

 

“Ineedyoutohelpmewithchivalry.”

 

“Aha!”  She dropped her knife and fork with a clatter.  “I _knew_ it!”

 

Arthur shrugged sheepishly.  “My father expects me to win this thing.”

 

"First of all, do you even know what the word means?"  Merlin looked at him dubiously. “You don’t, do you?”

 

"Of course I do. I'm the Crown Prince," he scoffed.

 

Merlin rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Fine. So what does it mean?"

 

"It's like when…you pull out chairs and…open doors…and stuff,” Arthur said hesitantly.

 

She wiggled her hand, gesturing him to elaborate.

 

“Well I mean, and knights protecting chicks from bad guys. That's as chivalrous as it gets."

 

"No, no," Merlin said impatiently. "That’s not exactly…”

 

Arthur stared at Merlin as if seeing her clearly for the first time. "You're a girl!"

 

"Wow Arthur, you're very observant. And I thought there was no hope for you.”

 

"No, no, but you're a _girl_." Arthur repeated with that same dazed look, missing her sarcasm entirely.

 

"Yes, we established that. Are you feeling all right?"  Merlin reached up to feel Arthur's forehead. The prince batted her hand away.

 

"Girls need saving.”  His eyes lit up alarmingly. “You're like the perfect damsel in distress, you're _always_ falling!" 

 

Merlin's mouth dropped open in shock. "Arthur Pendragon, I can't believe you just said that to me."

 

"I know, right? I'm such a genius." He was completely oblivious to the offended look on Merlin's face.

 

She stood up, her knees hitting the table with a clatter.  “You are _such_ an _ass_.”  Merlin savagely threw her cloth napkin on the table and then stalked out of the dining room.

 

Arthur threw his arms up in exasperation.  “Was it something I said?”

 

x-x-x


	7. Bravery and Cowardice

**Chapter 7 – Bravery and Cowardice:**

 

The next morning, Merlin still wasn’t talking to Arthur.  Any attempts made by Arthur to initiate their usual banter immediately wilted under the force of Merlin’s glares.  The rest of their lesson was spent in terse silence.  Arthur puzzled over his math problems and handed them to Merlin when he was finished.  Merlin corrected them swiftly, savagely scrawling corrections into the paper with red ink while Arthur fidgeted, uncomfortable in his own room.

 

They were relieved of the awkward tension by three short blasts of an air horn, signaling the ship’s arrival in its next port-of-call, Benwick.  Merlin quirked her eyebrow in a silent question and Arthur nodded his dismissal.  She thrust his marked-up papers into his hands and vanished from the prince’s room in a flash.

 

X-x-x

 

Merlin left Arthur’s chambers in a rush and nearly ran into Gwen, who had been hurtling down the hall at breakneck speed.  The servant didn’t seem to notice their near collision at all.  She was bouncing on her feet distractedly, radiating giddy excitement.

 

“Merlin!  Can you believe it?  We’re finally here!  In Benwick!”

 

Merlin was confused to say the least.  She’d read all about the ghost city of Benwick.  It had been formerly known as New York City and had been abandoned before the Great Catastrophe when most of it had gone underwater, but it was still supposed to be a very impressive sight to see.  But somehow, Merlin was quite certain that Gwen wasn’t that hyped up over 20th century architecture.  “What’s in Benwick?”

 

“My father and brother live here and I haven’t seen them in years.  I’m so excited!”

 

Merlin grinned.  “That’s awesome Gwen, I’m so happy for you.”  It made her remember that her own visit home to Ealdor was long over due as well. “Do I get to meet them?”

 

“Of course!”  Gwen was surprised that her friend would even ask such a question.

 

Merlin’s smile widened.  “I can’t wait.”

 

“Good, ‘cause we’re going right now.”  Gwen turned and trotted off down the hallway at a brisk clip.  Even with her long legs, Merlin had to struggle to keep up with the eager servant.  She only caught up just as they reached the top deck and Gwen slowed down to join the line of people leaving the ship.

 

Merlin eyed the gangplank nervously.  It wasn’t all that wide and it was a long way down.  She didn’t have the best balance, one misstep and she’d be careening into the water below…

 

Merlin snapped herself out of it and berated herself for being paranoid.  She’d jumped from greater heights cliff-diving in Ealdor, that little drop was nothing to worry about.  Merlin held this somewhat comforting thought in her mind until it was their turn to cross.  Gwen went right over the gangplank with no problems, her enthusiasm blinkering any fear she may have had.  Merlin, on the other hand, was not that fortunate.  She took a deep breath and cautiously crossed, placing one foot at a time in front of the other.  She supposed it wasn’t _that_ bad.  Still, Merlin didn’t relax until she had both feet once again planted firmly on solid ground.

 

Merlin took a cursory glance around.  The _Queen Ygraine_ was moored right next to _The Dragon_.  Nobles from both ships were disembarking for a look around the famed city.  They were dressed rather inappropriately, in Merlin’s opinion, clad in heeled shoes and floor length dresses that swept the glass littered ground.  A few servants were also milling about, enjoying a few precious hours off.  Merlin also noticed a few groups of strangers in rough black cloaks that concealed all but their chins.  As they passed by, she found there was something strangely familiar about their voices.  Merlin didn’t get a chance to question their identities because she was distracted by an ear-splitting shriek.

 

She turned around to see some sort of sea–like creature that might have been cute at some point, rearing out of the water.  It mutated before their eyes, growing larger and scary-looking.  Wing-like protrusions extended from its back, wicked talons glinted on four large paws, and a sharp, aquiline beak graced its fierce face.  The creature let out a shrill cry and bore down on Gwen, who was frozen in place with fear near the edge of the dock.  Merlin leapt forward towards her friend while the rest of the people in the vicinity fled, screaming.

 

The monster flapped its wings, spraying sea water everywhere, until only its rear legs skimmed the water.  Merlin tugged at Gwen urgently, pulling her back but there was nowhere to run.  The two girls cringed back as the heavy beating of wings drew ever closer.

 

There was a sudden yell followed by a screech and a large splash.  It took some time for the blood roaring in Merlin’s ears to subside enough for her to realize the absence of flapping.  She warily opened one eye a sliver, then they both flew open as she took in what she was seeing in gape-mouthed amazement.

 

A man had jumped from the rigging of one of the ships onto the beast’s back.  They were both in the water; the man flopping like a ragdoll, fighting to keep his grip, as the thing writhed around trying to dislodge him.

 

“Gwen!”  She shook the other girl’s shoulder.  “Gwen look!”

 

Gwen opened her eyes and squinted, not believing what she was seeing. 

 

They both stared, astounded as the man pulled out a sword and stabbed the creature repeatedly in the back.  It didn’t die, as it should have, but it was in enough pain that it let out a furious roar.  The beast gave one last vicious thrash, finally succeeding in throwing off the man, and then sunk back into the ocean to lick its wounds.

 

For a beat or two, it was silent.  Then the air was filled with the sound of applause.  People had lined the upper decks of the nearby ships when they had heard the commotion and were currently hanging off the railings, craning their necks to get a good look.  Those who had fled from the dock had retreated safely behind a rusty fence several meters inland and were gawking at them too.

 

Merlin ignored them, she only had eyes for their mysterious savior who was steadily making his way to the dock.  He was doing a lopsided sort of kick-crawl-thrash with one arm out of the water, holding his sword aloft.  When he reached the dock, he threw the weapon onto the platform and then followed suit. 

 

Merlin couldn’t help but stare as the man hoisted himself up out of the ocean, streams of water running down his body.  His soaked through shirt clung to biceps and triceps and other well defined muscles that she didn’t care to name.  He hopped out with little effort and shook dark wet hair out of his handsome, tanned face.  Merlin and Gwen sighed simultaneously. 

 

The stranger smiled at the two girls, making them weak in the knees.  “Hello, I’m Lancelot.”

 

Gwen made a breathy noise at the sound of his voice.  Merlin hid a grin, she’d never seen Gwen react like this to anyone.  “I’m Merlin and this is –“

 

“Gwen!” the servant cut in. 

 

She blushed prettily when Lancelot kissed her knuckles.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

 

Gwen blushed harder.  “I’m not a lady, but I assure you the pleasure is all mine.  And thank you so much for saving me, you were so brave out there.”

 

Lancelot smiled at her shyly and offered her his arm, determined to take her on a tour around the surviving parts of Benwick.  Merlin sighed and followed, already all but forgotten.

 

Most of Benwick was built on an island and had been one of the first major cities to flood when the sea level rose in the 21st century.  The remaining parts that were still accessible were only a tiny fraction of what the city used to be.  It was still possible to walk around the city, but it took a long meandering path.  Of course that had to be the very path Lancelot decided to take them down.

 

Through Gwen’s flirtatious small talk (Lancelot didn’t stand a chance once Gwen turned on her charm), they were able to learn quite a few things.

 

The creature that had attacked them was called a sea griffin, a mutated hybrid between an eagle and a sea lion.  Merlin didn’t even want to think too hard about how that could have possibly worked.  They also found out that Lancelot was a dock worker who was coincidentally good friends with Gwen’s brother, and was more than happy to lead them to her father’s workshop.

 

Merlin found Gwen’s father, Tom, to be quite intimidating at first.  He was sturdily built and strong despite his age.  However it didn’t take too long for her to realize that Tom possessed the same warm personality and kind heart as his daughter.

 

Elyan, Gwen’s brother, was something of a troublemaker.  He and Lancelot regaled Merlin with stories of their numerous escapades while Gwen caught up with her father.  When they got bored of that, Elyan took Merlin and Lancelot out back to look at the ships he and his father had built.  Tom was known as one of the most skilled and sought after ship builders on this side of the world.

 

Soon, in what had felt like no time at all, it was nearly midday.  Tom tried to talk the girls into staying for a lunch of smoked pigeon and watercress soup, but they had to decline, citing the ship’s departure at noon.  Gwen said her goodbyes with misty eyes and was passed around for hugs.

 

Lancelot, being the gentleman he was, offered to row them back to the docks using one of Tom’s boats.  They took a more direct route this time and Merlin got a chance to look around that city itself.  The avenue they were sailing down was flanked with looming buildings that seemed to graze the sky.  All of them were in a bad state, missing most of their windows or collapsed in on themselves.  One in particular had been eroded by the elements so that all that remained was a rusty frame that creaked ominously when the wind blew.

 

Lancelot moved at a brisk pace, navigating the maze of streets with the confidence of someone who knew their way very well. The city was eerie, deserted and silent, inhabited mainly by flocks of red-eyed pigeons, but also intriguing and striking in its own way.  It was like being transported back in history, a badly preserved piece of ante-apocalypse life.  Merlin tried to imagine life here in a glamorous city, hundreds of years ago, but it was difficult, it was all so alien to her.

 

Lancelot led them around a corner and Merlin was surprised they had reached the docks already. The two girls thanked Lancelot once again and bid him farewell. They got in line to board the ship and Sir Leon, when he recognized them, let them pass right away.  This time, Merlin conquered the gangplank with less trouble, acutely aware of a certain attractive dock worker’s presence the entire time.

 

X-x-x

 

Merlin slipped into the dining hall, late as usual.  For some reason, lunch was being held on the _Queen Ygraine_ instead of on Arthur’s ship like the rest of the festivities.  All of the nobles and servants had already begun dining and serving when Merlin got there.  She tried her best to be stealthy and failed.  Gwen’s sharp eyes found her first from behind Morgana’s chair at the high table.  The servant sent her a knowing look tempered by an amused smile. Morgana, following Gwen’s gaze, found Merlin as well.  The princess made a face at her and Merlin responded in kind, twisting her mouth and bugging her eyes out.  And it was just her luck that Arthur turned his head at that moment and caught her making that expression.  He glared at her reproachfully and Merlin stared coolly back.  She was still irked by his comment from the day before, it was childish of her, but the stupid prat needed to be taught a lesson.

 

In Merlin’s quest to sneak closer to the high table, she caught sight of someone else lurking in the shadows.  It turned out to be Sir Valiant, who was acting suspiciously, like he was hiding something.  Merlin watched him closely, certain that he was up to something.  She nearly jumped out of her skin when a lumpy something under his jacket _moved_.

 

Valiant turned his body away from her and rearranged something out of her line of vision.  He glanced around shiftily and Merlin didn’t look away quick enough, their eyes met.  She averted her eyes but it was no use, he’d seen her.  Valiant took a menacing step forward but was diverted by a scream.

 

Morgana was perched on her chair screaming hysterically, while Arthur and Uther desperately tried to locate the source of her fear.  A viper appeared all of a sudden, wound around the arm of her chair, hissing and baring its fangs.  Morgana screamed again and shuffled backwards, completely forgetting that she was standing precariously on a chair.  She tipped backwards, arms flailing and hands groping air.

 

Merlin instinctively reached forward, as did everyone around her, but they were all too far away.  And then Valiant was there.  He caught Morgana before she hit the ground and set her on her feet with ease.  Then he turned to the snake and lopped its head off with a clean swipe of his sword.  It was silent and then the room burst into cheers.  Uther shook Valiant’s hand vigorously and Morgana clung to his arm, thanking him profusely.  Arthur, in contrast, was scowling at the man, irritation clear on his face.

 

Merlin kept her eye on Valiant as he was fawned over by noblewomen and slapped on the back by other knights.  Whatever had been concealed under his shirt was gone now.  She looked between the body of the snake Gaius was carefully examining and back at Valiant.  It didn’t take a genius to make the connection.  Then Merlin thought about the two fatal puncture marks Gaius had found on Sir Ewan’s little finger this morning.  She needed to tell Arthur what she knew.

 

It wasn’t to hard for Merlin to make her way to the high table in the ensuing confusion.  Gwen was escorting a distraught Morgana back to her room while Uther and the council were making investigations.  Through it all, Arthur was still sulking in his seat.  Merlin knew why he was annoyed, Arthur was a man of action, he hated being useless.  He hadn’t been able to protect Morgana because court etiquette said it was rude to bring weapons into a place of dining.  Merlin had commented on that very rule when Arthur had taught it to her, saying it was stupid.  Arthur had agreed readily but it didn’t change the fact.

 

“Arthur.  I need to tell you something,” Merlin announced without preamble.

 

He twisted around in his seat, surprised that she was talking to him again.  A snarky response fell away from his lips when he heard the seriousness in Merlin’s voice.  Arthur studied her for a moment.  “All right.  What –“

 

“Arthur.”  Uther stood with Gaius, a grave expression on his face.  “A word.”

 

The prince nodded.  “In a moment –“

 

“Now.” 

 

The king left no room for argument and Arthur really didn’t want to make a scene in front of everybody.  “Yes, father.”  He gave Merlin an apologetic look.  “Sorry, M, can it wait?”

 

She shrugged.  “Guess it’ll have to.”

 

“I’ll hear you out later, promise.”

 

Merlin nodded, distracted by the sight of Valiant sneaking out of the room through a servants’ entrance.  Since Arthur was busy, she took it upon herself to follow Valiant and see what he was planning now.

 

Merlin followed the clanking of his armor and the yellow hem of his cape around corners, up flights of stairs, and down long corridors.  He turned to look behind him a few times, forcing Merlin to dive into nearby doorways, but luckily he didn’t notice.  Valiant finally paused in front of the armory and disappeared inside.  Merlin, curiosity piqued, marched inside with a vague plan of confronting the knight.

 

She scanned the room, seeing racks of weapons, colorful shields, and all types of armor but no Valiant.  Merlin moved in further to look behind the javelins when the door slammed shut.  Valiant stood behind her, smirking and blocking the only exit.

 

“Well, well.  If it isn’t the prince’s lapdog herself.”

 

Merlin stayed silent, ignoring his comments.

 

“You really think I didn’t see you following me?  And they say you’re the one who teaches Prince Arthur.  If that is so, I do fear for Camelot.”

 

When Merlin didn’t say anything, Valiant continued jeering.

 

“He’s not very bright, your prince.  I always wondered how he won these character tournaments every year.  I should’ve known it was nepotism through and through.  But this year, I think I’ve outperformed him at last.”

 

“He’s more man than you,” Merlin gritted out.  “I know what you did and you won’t get away with this.”

 

“Easy now, sweetheart.  And what are you going to do to me?  Your word means nothing against mine, and your precious master can’t do anything about that.  Nevertheless, perhaps I should still put a muzzle on you myself.”  Valiant punctuated each of his last few words with a leering step forward.  Merlin scrambled back as quickly as she could until her back hit a wall.

 

Valiant dropped the tip of his sword to rest in the vulnerable hollow of Merlin’s throat.  She stiffened and did her best not to breathe.  Merlin was all too aware of the cold metal touching her neck and what would happen if she made any sudden movement.  Her life was at his mercy now.

 

Valiant tensed when voices echoed down the hallway, but he didn’t move away, assuming the people would keep moving.  So when the muted footsteps stopped outside the armory, he only had a moment’s notice before the doorknob was turning.  Valiant yelped in an undignified manner and flinched away from Merlin when Uther entered followed by Arthur.

 

The latter’s eyes immediately darted between the naked blade and Merlin, still pressed up against the wall.  His hand went to his hip where a sword should have been.  Upon finding it still absent, the movement was quickly aborted.  Arthur settled for demanding, “What is going on here?” in his most authoritative voice.

 

"I was just teaching her a lesson,” Valiant explained defensively. “She accused me of treason, sire! I could not let it go unpunished."

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Is this true Merlin?"

 

She scowled at her feet, but nodded all the same.

 

"If you had a problem with my servant, you should have come to me first," Arthur snapped.

 

Valiant risked a glance at the silent king. Uther met his gaze steadily. "That is the protocol."

 

Valiant made a show of being contrite. "Of course, sire. It won't happen again."

 

Uther accepted this with a nod.  "If that is all, I have some business to attend to. Arthur, Sir Valiant."

 

"Father." Arthur barely spared him a fleeting glance.

 

In contrast, Valiant bowed deeply, respectfully.  "Sire."

 

The moment Uther left, Arthur rounded on the other two. "Now tell me what really happened."

 

"She -"

 

Arthur gave the man a withering glare. "I wasn't talking to you, Sir Valiant. Merlin, now if you'd please."

 

"You can't possibly -"

 

"No. And you can't possibly be questioning your prince."  Arthur's eyes flashed dangerously and Valiant finally took the hint and shut his mouth. "Now Merlin."

 

Merlin quickly recounted what had happened to the best of her ability. Arthur listened in silence and when she was done, he faced Valiant and asked, "What have you to say about all this?"

 

Valiant jumped at the opportunity to voice his thoughts. "It's lies, all of it!  What she says is absurd!  I have nothing against the Lady Morgana. It's preposterous."

 

"If its so preposterous, you wouldn't mind me checking your rooms just to make sure?"

 

The knight gulped visibly, his facade cracking just a bit. "Go ahead, sire."

 

Arthur called a few guards over to watch Valiant while he led another group to search his rooms. "Merlin, you stay here too."

 

She caught his arm as he walked by. "I'm telling the truth, Arthur, I swear it."

 

"I know, I trust you. But this way he can't say you interfered."

 

She nodded and squeezed his hand. "Good luck."

 

Merlin occupied herself with polishing Arthur's armor while waiting for the prince to return. On the outside she looked composed, while her mind was roiling with chaotic thoughts. _What if I'm wrong? What if Arthur doesn't find anything?_

 

The door banged open and Merlin’s neck snapped up hopefully.  But instead of Arthur, she found an angry Uther framed in the doorway.  “Sir Valiant, I do apologize.  I don’t know what Arthur was thinking.  He is far too overprotective of that girl, its becoming unhealthy.  I will speak to him, but you are free to go.” 

 

The king directed a glare at Merlin, making Valiant nothing short of gleeful. "And you!  Guards, restrain her. You have overstepped once again. How dare you accuse a knight, and a guest no less. You -"

 

Arthur burst into the room. "Arrest him!"

 

Soldiers flooded the room and grasped Valiant by the arms.

 

"Father?"  Arthur looked around the room. "Merlin?  Let her go!"

 

The men flanking Merlin glanced at the king and then at the prince considering whose wrath was the lesser evil. The prince was usually more reasonable, but when it came to Merlin, all bets were off.  Both men, coming to the same conclusion, took a step away from her.

 

Uther was livid. "You fools!  Arthur are you mad?  Let Sir Valiant go!"

 

"No father, I'm afraid I cannot," Arthur said without remorse.

 

"What are you talking about? He saved your sister, Valiant is a hero."

 

"Valiant is a criminal. He murdered Sir Ewan and he attacked Morgana."

 

Uther faltered at the mention of his daughter. "Explain yourself."

 

"He's the one who released the snake in the first place. Two days ago, Morgana was dining with Ewan and the other knights. Valiant released the snake, wanting to scare Morgana but it bit Ewan instead, he died an hour later. Then he tried again today.  It attacked Morgana, he killed it, and you think he's a hero for conveniently bringing a sword to lunch. We searched his room and we found another two snakes, identical to the one from today.  What further evidence do you need?"

 

Uther looked like he swallowed something sour. "As Article 19 says, Sir Valiant will be afforded a fair trial for his crimes. I will try you in an hour."

 

"Oh no, father. But as Article 20 says, the trial must take place where the highest felony was committed. In this instance it would be _The Dragon's Call_ , so therefore _I_ will be residing over the trial."

 

Valiant, who had begun to look hopeful, deflated once again. Arthur would be acting as judge and jury, as was the custom in all royal courts. And in this particular case, he would be the prosecution as well. Valiant stood no chance against him.

 

Uther knew this as well, but there was nothing he could do about it, the law was the law.

 

X-x-x

 

"You have been assembled here today to witness the matter of Knight Valiant of the Western Isles.

 

"The defendant has been accused of one count of manslaughter and one count of fraud with attempted assault. Present are the King Uther, Princess Morgana, and the prosecution, which will be represented by myself.

 

"Bring in the defendant."

 

Nothing happened. Arthur repeated the command louder. The door opened and a messenger slipped in and whispered something in the prince's ear. Arthur went from surprised to grim to reproachful before sliding fake-sorrow onto his face.

 

"It seems there has been an incident. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Sir Valiant will not be joining us today. This court has been adjourned."  Arthur gathered up the papers full of hastily scrawled statements and arguments that Merlin had organized in the past hour and hopped off his throne. The council members and noblemen in the room didn't care enough to question it, they were just happy to get the afternoon off.

 

Arthur joined Merlin and Gaius where they were standing in the witness section. "Seems you were right."

 

Merlin grimaced.  "I wish I wasn't."

 

"But you were wrong about the weapon though."

 

"That's because you hid everything after I warned you," she protested.

 

"It was the snake, wasn't it?" Gaius cut in. He didn't look overly surprised.

 

Arthur nodded.

 

"I thought there were only three," Merlin interjected.

 

"There was," Arthur said. "But he kept the head from this morning. He knew he was going to lose so he pricked himself. It's funny though, that was the same punishment I planned to give him anyways."

 

"And sire, you must be careful with the body," Gaius warned. "It will poison the fish if you dispose of it the normal way. You must burn it."

 

"I understand. Thank you Gaius. I must report this to my father.  I'll see you later Merlin."

 


	8. Sink or Swim

**Chapter 8 – Sink or Swim:**

 

Merlin entered the ballroom feeling cheerful, despite her long day. She had a hopeful feeling about tonight. It was the sixth day of Chivalry Week and also the first time since opening night that servants could attend. The theme was the sky and weather.

 

Merlin absolutely loved the dress she was wearing and she'd already gotten multiple compliments on it. Her dress was made of a cool silky material that clung and draped in all the right places. It was printed with a swirling, streaking play of teals and greens made to imitate the Northern Lights. Merlin's hair, thanks to Gwen, was partly braided up and woven through with ribbon while the rest fell in loose curls around her shoulders.

 

Her elation was quickly snuffed out by the sight of Arthur storming towards her with a face like thunder. He was wearing a well-fitted midnight blue tux with subtle crystal accents sewn in to look like the night sky. It should have been tacky, but somehow Arthur managed to pull it off. Merlin took a moment to appreciate how fine he looked before he was hissing,

 

"Merlin! Why did I have to hear from Morgana – _Morgana_ of all people – about how my best friend nearly died today?"

 

She rolled her eyes. "You mean the first time or the second time?"

 

Arthur was not impressed.

 

"Look, Arthur, I forgot, okay? I didn't leave it out on purpose. It's just been a long day, that's all. And I nearly die on a daily basis, today was nothing special."

 

The prince was only slightly endeared by her rambling. "Whatever. But next time, tell me first or Morgana will be insufferable."

 

"Fine, but I try not to make a habit of it, you know. You're not asking because you're worried about me or something like that, are you? It's just so you can one-up your sister, right _best friend_?"

 

Arthur lifted his chin haughtily and scoffed at her. "What? No. Never."

 

Merlin laughed at him and turned to leave.

 

"And Merlin?"

 

"Yes Arthur?" she asked in her long suffering voice, not even bothering to turn around.

 

"You're looking very nice tonight."

 

Merlin couldn't help the subsequent smile that split her face. "Thank you, sire."

 

X-x-x

 

Merlin did end up having fun. She sat with Gwen and a bunch of other serving girls she'd come to know as good friends. Several times throughout the night, she was asked to dance by various servants and even a knight; when Arthur wasn't monopolizing her time that was.

 

One of the cute squires, Daegal, asked her to dance shortly after dinner and Merlin happily accepted. He was charming, funny, and easy to talk to, and Merlin was enjoying herself immensely and laughing often. Over Daegal's shoulder, she could see Arthur scowling at them while being forced to dance with Lady Helen.

 

Helen was one of those people who thought they could sing much better than they really could, and never passed up an opportunity to showcase her "talent". It was really hard not to laugh at Arthur's discomfort and the way he winced every time Helen hit a high note.

 

Daegal twirled her around and in doing so, they switched positions so he was facing Arthur now. The prince was fixing him with a dirty look, not even bothering to hide his displeasure. Daegal took an instinctive step away from Merlin. "Um."

 

She twisted her neck to see what he was looking at. "Oh, it's just Arthur."

"Yeah, but he's also my boss and I don't get the feeling he likes me very much," Daegal commented.

 

"That's just the way he is, I'm sure it's nothing personal. And I wouldn't let him get you fired."

 

"You're really something else, you know that Merlin? You're the sweetest, prettiest girl here and I'm so lucky to get a dance with you," he said earnestly, his eyes wide and guileless.

 

Merlin blushed to the tips of her ears. "I'm not really. But thank you. You're lovely too."

 

The song was winding down and segueing into the next one. Daegal leaned in close, so close that Merlin went slightly cross-eyed looking at the little freckles on his nose. He tilted his head slowly and gently brushed his lips against her cheek. "Thank you," he said in a husky voice. "It was a pleasure." Daegal bowed low and then backed away into the crowd.

 

Arthur slipped right into the vacated spot in front of Merlin. "You let him kiss you!" the prince hissed.

 

"Yeah." Merlin stared blankly in the direction Daegal had disappeared off into. "It was nice."

 

" _Nice_?" Arthur repeated disgustedly. "You hardly know the guy."

 

Merlin shrugged, still not paying attention to him.

 

"You're mine, Merlin. And no creepy little rat-faced squire is going to put their grabby hands on _my_ –"

 

"He's cute," Merlin said dazedly as if she hadn't heard a word of Arthur's rant.

 

" _Cute_? You call that cute? He is not _cute_! Am I cute? You better think I'm cute. I am ten times cuter than that sniveling –"

 

Morgana swept over, looking impeccable in her snowstorm inspired evening gown. "Arthur, get a hold of yourself. You're making a scene."

 

Indeed several heads had turned their way over the course of Arthur's increasingly loud tirade.

 

Merlin focused her eyes on Arthur, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Would you calm down? It was just a kiss on the cheek, Arthur."

 

Arthur crossed his arms. "You _liked it_ ," he said accusingly.

 

" _Yes_ Arthur. It's not everyday a girl gets kissed by an attractive guy. Now would you butt out? What's it to you?"

 

"What's it to me? Oh, I'm so sorry for trying to look out for my good friend Merlin who nearly dies every other day!"

 

"Not this again," Merlin groused. "I can take care of myself."

 

"Oh yeah? And what were you going to do when he had a sword at your neck? Huh? Do you have any magical powers I should know about?"

 

Her expression shuttered. "I would have managed. I don't need your help."

 

"Stop being so stubborn, Merlin."

 

"Then stop being an arse!" Merlin whirled around and stomped away.

 

"Fine!" He would have said more if he wasn't held back by Morgana.

 

"Enough, Arthur. Don't make it worse. You both need time to cool down."

 

"She started it," Arthur grumbled petulantly.

 

Morgana sighed. "It's a wonder she still puts up with you."

 

X-x-x

 

Merlin left the ball room and went outside. It was a clear night, the stars almost visible through the smog. She decided to take a walk around the upper deck, which was half a mile long at its widest. The air was cool and the wind swept her hair and dress around.

 

Merlin rounded the next turn and stopped dead. "Oh."

 

Sophia lifted her head, her eyes red and face blotchy. She sniffled and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "What?" she snapped.

 

"I didn't say anything." Merlin was backpedaling as fast as she could. "I was just –"

 

"No! You don't get to run away from this."

 

Merlin hesitated, bewildered. "I think you have it wrong," she said softly. "I have nothing to do with –"

 

"You have everything to do with it!" Sophia screeched. "It's all your fault! You're the reason he's dead!"

 

Merlin turned around to face her. "I don't –"

 

"Don't you dare! You _had_ to go rat him out, didn't you? We were going to run away together! He– he said he loved me." Sophia didn't bother with trying to hide the fresh tears that were dripping down her face.

 

That's when it hit her. "Valiant. You…he…but I thought…you and…Arthur?"

 

"My father wants me to marry Arthur. And I wouldn't mind it, but Arthur doesn't love me back, not like _he_ did."

 

Merlin was starting to feel just a bit bad for Sophia. "I'm sorry."

 

" _Sorry_!" she sneered. "You're _sorry_? You killed him, you don't get to be sorry."

 

"Well technically, I didn't kill him, he did that himself."

 

Merlin knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say.

 

"You little whore! What are you implying? That he killed himself? He would never –"

 

"Um well, I hate to break it to you, but yeah he did..." She snapped her mouth shut. Merlin really needed to learn when to shut up.

 

Sophia was just about vibrating with anger. "You liar!"

 

Merlin put her hands up in surrender but the other girl didn't look like she was backing down any time soon. Sophia gave her a particularly vicious shove and Merlin's back hit the railing. It only took one more push for her to topple right over the side. Merlin let out a surprised squeak which then morphed into a scream. The last thing she saw was Sophia's satisfied smirk before she plunged into the raging waves.

 

X-x-x

 

Arthur was standing on a lower deck trying to clear his head when he heard a familiar voice. The prince craned his neck to see a teal-clad figure falling from a higher deck, skirts billowing around her. He thought idly that the falling person seemed to resemble Merlin very much. It took a moment, however for him to realize she didn't only look like Merlin, she _was_ Merlin.

 

Arthur watched in horrified awe as Merlin twisted in midair into a streamlined dive, hitting the water with only the tiniest splash. He waited, uncertain. On one hand, Merlin had grown up by the ocean; she was a strong swimmer, better than him even and had been an accomplished cliff-diver since age twelve. But the drop from the top deck was about a hundred feet; if the angle she entered the water at was even a tiny bit off, she could be unconscious, or worse, dead.

 

Arthur waited one beat, two. Where was she? Merlin should have come up by now, she'd been under for far too long. This thought barely finished running through his head before Arthur was shucking off his jacket and tearing off his boots. He vaulted over the railing and jumped into the dancing waves.

 

X-x-x

 

Arthur dove into the water and the impact nearly forced the breath from his chest, and he'd jumped from nearly half that height Merlin had. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to get a sense of his bearings through the water blurring his open eyes.

 

The first thing he was aware of was the cold. Of course he hadn't expected it to be warm, but winter was still a few months off; yet he'd been in the water for all of half a minute and his entire body was already completely numb.

Arthur surfaced and twisted around, trying to figure out where Merlin could have landed. The ship was moving and so were the waves and Merlin might be moving too, if she hadn't drowned yet. A great racket had been raised from the upper decks of the ship but Arthur paid them no mind. He only had one thought in his mind and that was Merlin.

 

He ducked under the waves again and opened his eyes as wide as he could as if that would improve his night vision. And then he saw it, a shaft of moonlight hitting pale skin and he swam to it with all his might.

 

Merlin was clearly unconscious, body limp and dress floating hauntingly around her. Arthur hooked his hands under her arms and kicked upwards. For once, he was glad she weighed just about nothing, and the water took off even more of that weight, so Arthur was able to them to the surface in no time.

 

The lower decks of _The Dragon_ were crowded with knights and crew. Someone let out a shout when Arthur's head reappeared above water. Within seconds, a life preserver was thrown out to them and they were being reeled back in. When they got within a few feet of the ship, Arthur readjusted his hold on Merlin, slinging her over his shoulder. Then he grasped the algae slick ladder bolted to the side of _The Dragon_ and began to climb, his weary muscles complaining every rung of the way.

 

As they neared the low deck that Arthur jumped from, Merlin began to regain consciousness. At first all she did was wiggle around and cough violently, but as she became more aware of her surroundings, it got harder to hold her without letting go of the ladder.

 

Climbing a wet and slimy ladder really wasn't all that easy in the first place. The ship was convex and sloped and the ladder was built to follow that shape. Arthur was already tired from swimming around and hauling Merlin through the ocean. Add on the extra weight of sodden clothes and a squirming armful of Merlin…

 

"Would you stop that?"

 

Merlin wiggled around some more, trying to see whose arms she was in. "Arthur?"

 

"Yes, _Mer_ lin. Now this is hard enough as it is, so would you stay still?"

 

"Oh sorry." There was a blissful moment of silence. "I could get off," she offered.

 

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "Yeah? And how would you manage that without falling back into the ocean?"

 

"Right. But this is quite humiliating."

 

"I'm sure you'll live."

 

"Hmmph."

 

Sir Leon's concerned head poked over the side of the railing. "Sire?"

 

Arthur grunted in response.

 

"Do you require assistance?"

 

"I'll be fine Leon. Just help Merlin over."

 

Merlin carefully maneuvered herself around so she could reach the railing and Sir Leon's hand without sticking her bum in Arthur's face. She clambered over with little grace and almost fell again when she stepped on the hem of her own dress. Leon steadied her without a word as Arthur climbed back onto the deck.

 

"All right?"

 

She managed a smile. "I'm okay."

 

"You're lucky," Gaius tsked, appearing all of a sudden with his medicine bag. "A fall like that could have killed you."

 

Merlin shivered. Her dress was clinging to her pale legs, and if they hadn't been under the cover of darkness, would also be rather see-through. Arthur picked up his suit jacket, which he'd thrown on the ground earlier and draped it over Merlin's trembling shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

 

Arthur slid an arm around Merlin, supporting her, even though she knew he was just as cold and tired as she was. She slumped against Arthur, just thankful for the warm solidness he provided. The little energy Merlin had possessed, had deserted her, leaving her drained.

 

The next hour was a blur in Merlin's exhausted and waterlogged brain. Gaius examined her and pronounced her "tired but fine". Then she had to sit through a briefing with Arthur and his council. Merlin told them everything that she could remember. Arthur, taking pity on her when she began nodding off in the council room, stopped the meeting and walked Merlin back to her room.

 

Fatigue must have loosened his tongue, because on the way, Arthur began to ramble and let it be known that Arthur Pendragon never rambles.

 

"I didn't even know it was you at first, but then I recognized your dress. I wasn't lying, it is a very pretty dress. And then you did that very nice dive and I thought you'd pop right back up, y'know like in those stories.

 

"But you didn't, and I got worried. Not really worried, mind you, wouldn't want you to get too full of yourself. So then I jumped in after you and I ruined my pants. I mean, I wasn't exactly planning on wearing them again, but you get what I'm saying.

 

"And then I found you just floating in the water, being useless as usual, waiting for me to come save you. You can figure out the rest, I came to the rescue and I carried you all the way back to the ship like a sack of potatoes."

 

"Arthur." They'd come to a stop in front of Merlin's door.

 

"So now we're even. You saved me from drowning, and I saved you."

 

"Arthur," Merlin repeated.

 

"What?"

 

Merlin went on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Arthur's mouth. "Thank you."

 

She smiled shyly at him and then slipped into her room, leaving a dumbfounded prince in her wake. Once inside, Merlin was too tired to even think about what she just did. She stripped out of her wet clothes and dropped into bed, exhausted.

 

X-x-x

 

Outside, Arthur was still standing there, hand on his mouth, wondering what just happened. He could hear the telltale rustles and a creak of Merlin going to bed from outside her door and he wanted nothing more than to do the same. But as Arthur headed back toward his chambers, he was stopped by a servant.

 

"Your father wants you back in the ball room, immediately."

 

Arthur sighed. He'd forgotten that the ball was still going on. "Tell him I'll be there, I'm just going to change."

 

The servant shifted nervously. "Um Sire, he specifically told me immediately and um.."

 

Arthur scowled and sighed again. "Fine. Lead the way."


	9. Father and Son

**Chapter 9 – Father and Son:**

For one of the first times in his life, Arthur actually stopped in front of the doors and waited to be announced. As his many titles were listed, Arthur surreptitiously tried to fix his hair and straighten his outfit, now sans jacket which was still with Merlin. And for no reason at all, the idea of Merlin keeping his jacket made him feel warm inside.

The doors slowly opened and Arthur scrambled to organize the thoughts in his head. He needed a solid argument to defend him jumping in after Merlin. Uther would probably bring up his usual points, she's a servant, she's a peasant girl, people die for you when you're king. His father was rather predictable sometimes. Arthur built mental arguments and counter arguments and rebuttals as quickly as his frazzled brain could manage.

With a deep  _thunk!_  the heavy doors slammed against the wall, now fully opened. Arthur strode forward and was met with…applause? All of the guests attending the party clustered around the center aisle where a path to the king was left open. Arthur awkwardly walked toward his father and was cheered on from either side. Behind him, the crowd pressed in and Arthur felt hands patting him on the back.

Uther sat on his throne with a benign little curve at the corners of his mouth, the closest Arthur had ever seen to a smile. He spread his arms in a mockery of welcome. "Arthur. So good of you to join us."

"Father? What's going on?"

"The votes have been cast, and it is clear. Prince Arthur Pendragon, I proudly name you this year's champion of the Tournament of Character. You will have the pleasure of escorting the Lady Morgana to tomorrow night's feast as well as the reward of one hundred gold pieces. Congratulations."

Arthur stared at his father uncomprehendingly as the room echoed with the sound of clapping. "I'm sorry, but voted for what? I haven't done anything."

Uther gave a forced chuckle. "Always so modest, son." A few of the noblewomen tittered. Arthur clenched his teeth, he hated this friendly act his father put on with him in public. He knew that his father saw him as little more than an asset and heir and more often than not, an inconvenience. But of course, they had court appearances to keep up.

Still completely in the dark, Arthur was thrown to the wolves. He was suddenly swamped with well wishers, many of whom were just trying to kiss up to Uther by shaking Arthur's hand genially and praising his bravery. The rest were women who were either swooning in his arms or were pushing their swooning daughters into his arms. There was an obnoxious amount of batted eyelashes and hair flipping as well as vapid giggles and some rather uncomfortably forward flirting. This was exactly the reason why Arthur was always using Merlin as a human shield to fend off these madwomen. When the elderly (and married) Lady Grunhilda not-so-subtly flashed her cleavage at him, Arthur decided he'd had enough.

"Excuse me ladies. I'm still not feeling up to my best and I fear I'm coming down with a chill. Forgive me, but I must retire."

There was some more cooing and fretting and then Arthur was free.

It wasn't too hard to track Morgana down. She was like a glittering white beacon in her blizzard dress. Arthur approached where she was standing with her maid.

"Morgana, what did father say about me?" Arthur demanded, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

She shook her head. "You don't need to look at me like that, he didn't say anything that wasn't true. For once you actually did something right."

"Hey!"

Morgana plowed on. "Everyone saw what you did. You do know that the walls in here are made of glass. We all saw you save Merlin. Uther couldn't ignore that, so he named you the winner. Again. So lucky me, I get to be escorted by the ever courageous birthday boy. The joy."

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end again. "How pissed is he?"

Morgana cocked her head, thinking. "On a scale of one to ten? I'd say like a six. It helps that you won the thing for the fifth year in a row."

Ever since he'd been old enough at age thirteen to enter the tournament, Arthur had managed to beat out every other eligible man on their combined ships year after year to win the title of champion.

The prince nodded. "All right. I suppose he's waiting for tomorrow to yell at me. Now I really must go to sleep. Good night."

Before he turned away, Morgana's maid said in a quiet voice, "It was very brave, what you did."

Arthur stared at her for a moment. "Thank you Guinevere."

He'd gotten much better at interactions with servants since Merlin had arrived. She'd nagged him for a whole week before he had given in and promised to try and treat them better.

Arthur sighed again and dragged himself back to his room. He'd be glad when all of this was over. It was nice seeing his father, since Uther was usually on the other side of the world from him. But still, there was only so much he could take. It was rather irritating, really, to be forced to let Uther stay on his ship and to hand over the reins. Arthur ran  _his_  ship the way  _he_  thought best and didn't take kindly to all of the condescending criticism from his father or the changes he tried to enforce in his week long stay.

Arthur finally arrived back in his rooms. His graded math problems were still sitting on the table. That morning had felt like eons ago. Arthur didn't have the energy to muse over it. He flopped on his bed, wiggled out of his shirt, and kicked off his pants. His sleep clothes were across the room and Arthur really wasn't in the mood to get up and fetch them. So he decided not to bother with them, he'd be under the blankets and nobody would disturb him in the morning...

X-x-x

Merlin made a startled noise when she entered Arthur's room the next morning. He hadn't answered her persistent knocking so she'd just barged in.

Arthur was sprawled across the bed, snoring. Over the course of the night, the covers had shifted, baring toned arms and a lot of leg. Merlin knew he occasionally slept shirtless, but she wondered when Arthur had come into the habit of going to bed completely naked.

She went over to wake him. He muttered unintelligibly and tried to push her away. "Arthur, for crying out loud, would you wake up already?"

Arthur stirred, lashes fluttering as he shook off the cobwebs of sleep. He yawned and stretched then rubbed a hand over his morning stubble. "Merlin?"

"Good morning Arthur." She sat down on the edge of his bed. "Happy birthday."

He grinned easily at her and propped his head up with his arms behind his neck to get a good look at her. "Morning M."

"Since when did you sleep without your clothes on?"

Arthur smirked, not the least bit embarrassed. He nudged Merlin with the knee closest to her. "It's all for you, M, I'm putting on a show."

Merlin rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I came here first. If Julia from down the hall came in to get your laundry, you would've given her a real fright."

Arthur shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm just too much man for her to handle."

She swatted him. "Oh, shut up. Your ego is huge."

"Is that a fat joke?"

"Yeah."

Arthur slowly looked down his body, from his pecs to his abs to the well defined calf sticking out from under the blanket. "Nah. I think I'm good."

Merlin resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. "Now get up, it's nearly the tenth hour and you have an appointment with your father in about five minutes."

"Oh shit!" He jumped up, holding his sheets firmly around his waist. "Turn around," he commanded.

"So now you're sensitive," Merlin commented as she turned to face the wall.

There was some shuffling and banging of drawers. "Ow!"Arthur shouted.

Merlin turned around to ask if he was all right and was confronted with the image of an arse naked Athur hopping around, clutching his foot.

"Merlin!" He yelled shrilly when he saw her turned.

"Sorry, sorry. Just hurry up will you?"

Arthur harrumphed and stomped around like a wounded elephant until he finally announced he was decent and Merlin could look at him again. She glanced at him and let out a put-upon sigh, which was becoming an increasingly common occurrence the more time she spent around the prince.

Merlin got up and began fixing the laces on Arthur's shirt, smoothing out the shoulders and straightening the collar of his jacket.

Arthur just smiled and let her fuss over him under she deemed him presentable.

"Good? Let's go." He led her out of his rooms and into the corridor.

Merlin fell in step next to him. "You'll be with your father for about an hour I hope. I pushed back your training and I told all your knights, they'll be ready for you after lunch. So that leaves about an hour before lunch to fit some of your studies in. And after training, I left time for you to bathe before you hold court. When that's done, the council would like to meet with you, and then of course there's the feast. Oh and I knew you wouldn't have time to eat so I brought you this…" Merlin reached into her pocket and produced a warm roll wrapped in a napkin. "So breakfast. You best eat it quickly."

Arthur accepted it gratefully. "You're a saint Merlin."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get in there. You're father's gonna blame me if you're late."

The prince rapped on the door.

"Enter."

Arthur flashed one last smile and then disappeared into the room.

X-x-x

The prince emerged nearly two hours later looking irritable. Dealing with his father tended to put him in a bad mood.

Merlin took one look at his face and let him off lessons for the day and took him straight to lunch.

Arthur glowered at his grilled salmon for a good ten minutes and Merlin just let him stew. She calmly cut up her own food and ate it like a socially acceptably lady for once. "Are you going to talk about it, or just take it out on your fish?"

The prince scowled some more. "I wish my father would respect the choices I make."

Merlin nodded slowly. "He will, in time, you'll see. You're a good man, Arthur, and you'll be a great king. Your father will understand that for himself one day."

Arthur looked mollified. "Where do you get that confidence, Merlin? Why do you have so much faith in me?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Because you're  _you_."

X-x-x

Merlin didn't see him again until later, after the council meeting. Arthur didn't look too surprised to see Merlin sitting outside the council chamber, waiting for the results. He had been the last to leave, staying behind to have a word with a few stragglers. Merlin tapped her foot impatiently, wishing, for once, that Arthur wasn't so conscientious.

"So?" She asked immediately when he exited. Merlin usually wasn't this pushy, but she was rather invested in this particular case.

"Valiant has been confirmed as guilty, so the girl Leila has been vindicated." Arthur paused, purposely withholding what he was about to say.

Merlin looked ready to strangle him. "Arthur, that crazy bitch tried to kill me!"

"Sophia was tried just now," Arthur said slowly. "She was found guilty. She's banished from the Avalon fleet for the rest of her life."

Merlin blinked. "...rest of her life? Isn't that excessive?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's justice. No one threatens my friends."

She immediately made an 'awwww' sound which made Arthur roll his eyes and let her know what a big girl she was.

"Whatever Arthur. I have to go get changed now. I'll see you later."

X-x-x

To his chagrin, Arthur had to escort Morgana to the feast. He saw it more as a punishment than a reward to be forced to spend time with his older sister.

Arthur knocked on her door, perfectly punctual as his father had raised him to be. Gwen opened the door and quickly let him in. One look at Morgana's face and Arthur knew that her mood was leaning more toward insufferable than simply highly exasperating.

"Morgana," he said curtly.

She smirked. "My dear champion."

Morgana was wearing another gown that plunged dangerously low and showed far too much cleavage. It was a full-skirted ball gown made of violet satin with turquoise sheer sleeves and gold accents. Around her wrist was a black ribbon in honor of the late Queen Ygraine.

Arthur's mood darkened for a moment when he saw the ribbon. All the guests and servants had to wear something black to commemorate his mother. It only served as another reminder of how joyless a day his birthday really was. Every year, that day was overshadowed with a lingering grief and guilt. And though his father would never blame him outright for Ygraine's death, the implication was there.

Morgana fixed her hair, placing each curl just so. Arthur really didn't understand what it was with girls and hair. Morgana always managed to spent an inordinate amount of time in front of her mirror preening.

"Let's go, Morgana."

She reluctantly left her vanity and took his arm. As they made their way to the ballroom, the halls were mercifully empty since most of the guests were already at the feast.

The prince and princess were announced and bowed to as they entered. Arthur, as it was his birthday, had to endure a litany of birthday wishes from strangers and distant relatives. As usual, only five minutes in and he was already bored to tears. Arthur scanned the room and picked out Merlin at a glance, even though her back was to him. The set of her shoulders, the cadence of her stride, and the width of her stance were all intimately familiar to him after years of her company.

Arthur was itching to talk to someone, anyone other than Lord Whatshisface who was currently blathering his ear off. He tried sending telepathic messages to the back of Merlin's head, hoping if his glare was forceful enough, she'd hear him. Alas, she did not. Arthur inwardly cursed Merlin's lack of telepathic receptors and her social-butterfly-like tendencies.

Arthur snapped back to attention when he heard his father mention his name and the word "present" in the same sentence.

Merlin perked up as well. As she turned, Arthur caught her eye and waggled his eyebrows at her. She gave him a withering look though she sidled closer.

Uther led Arthur out of the ballroom with most of the party following curiously. Merlin trailed behind at a distance, wary of inciting Uther's rage. They paraded down the hall, up two flights, and out onto the upper deck. Right in the middle of the deck, unmistakably, was Arthur's present. It was about twenty feet high and just as long and concealed under a tarp.

"Son, I present to you, your coming of age present." Uther motioned to a few servants standing around. They gathered at one end of the tarp and tugged it off with one big heave. It slumped to the ground, revealing a beautiful yacht.

Arthur walked up to it, mesmerized. He ran a reverent hand over the gold script engraved in the smooth wooden paneling. " _Excalibur_ ," he read out loud.

"What do you think?"

"It's wonderful father. Thank you." Arthur bowed, smiling widely, and continued inspecting his new boat.

Uther nodded and let him be. The king turned and returned to the ballroom, most of the guests trailing not far behind.

A bunch of Arthur's friends, mostly knights and noblemen's sons surrounded him. They started discussing and arguing over the features of his new boat. Arthur eagerly joined in. Merlin rolled her eyes. What was it with boys and boats anyways?

After a while, the young men dispersed, pulled away either by girlfriends or the prospect of food.

"It's nice," Merlin said. She'd wandered up to  _Excalibur_  and was tracing a light fingertip over the glossy finish.

Gwen joined her, giving the boat a thoughtful look. "I recognize this model."

"Hm?" Arthur was now fiddling around with some of the ropes. From the way his face was lit up, Merlin was vividly reminded of a small child who'd been given a new toy to play with.

"I think my father made this." Gwen leant closer to  _Excalibur_ , peering at the boat in the fading light. "I remember this color. He called it  _dragon fire_.And here's his seal! This must be why we stopped in Benwick yesterday."

Merlin nudged Gwen with her shoulder. "You'll have to write to him! It's a gorgeous ship and Arthur's clearly in love with it already."

They both glanced at Arthur, who was still enthralled by his new yacht, and giggled. Merlin had to physically wrench him away from it, leading him by the hand back to the ball room. "C'mon birthday boy. They'll send someone looking for you soon."

Arthur reluctantly tore himself from  _Excalibur_  and compliantly allowed Merlin to steer him back inside. He took one look at the hordes of zealous girls waiting to pounce on him the moment he returned through the door and took a step closer to Merlin.

She shot him a reproachful look but closed the space between them even more. These days, slipping into the persona she and Arthur had created simply felt like donning a jacket, showing a different layer of herself. And with each passing day, the line between court-Merlin and normal-Merlin was getting finer and starting to blur. Even she sometimes had trouble discerning how she really felt. But court-Merlin was confident, sometimes flirtatious, and had maybe sort-of could-be romantic feelings for Arthur. Normal-Merlin was still deciding.

Arthur swept Merlin into a waltz before any of the others had a chance to approach him. She couldn't help but snort at their crestfallen faces.

Arthur stared at Merlin; it was the first time that night he'd seen her clearly in the light. She was wearing a simple cerulean gown that contrasted nicely with her skin and brought out her bright eyes. Arthur lifted a hand to touch the inky ribbon at the end of her braid. His own black token was pitch-colored silk handkerchief in his shirt pocket.

Merlin met his gaze with a sad twist of her lips. She hated how Arthur's birthday was his least favorite day of the year because of all the bitterness and sadness it dredged up. Every scrap of black worn by each of the guests was a personal blow that only further dampened the somber day.

That was why she chose that moment to reach into her pocket, not able to take Arthur's thinly-veiled gloom any longer. "Here, I made you something." Merlin pried Arthur's right hand off her waist and deposited a little pouch in it. "Happy birthday."

"M, you didn't have to –" he began to protest.

" _Arthur_. You get  _me_  nice things on my birthday, so you deserve something too. Now open it."

They stopped in the center of the dance floor, disgruntled couples maneuvering around them. Arthur carefully pulled on the string and opened the pouch. He pulled out a leather bracelet made up of intricate fishing knots.

Merlin shrugged. "It's not much, but –"

"I love it." He pulled her in for a bone crushing hug, resting his head on hers and wrapping his arms around her slender middle. Merlin squeezed him back and stepped back with a blush staining her cheeks.

Arthur stuck his arm in her face, like the child he was, demanding that she tie the bracelet around his wrist that instant. Merlin had to smile and comply.

X-x-x

Arthur sat down at breakfast the next morning. It would be his last meal with his father for a while. Morgana drifted in, as always, far too chipper for that early in the day. They tucked into their food and made small talk as usual, Arthur and Uther discussing politics while Morgana occasionally added a comment or two.

Between topics there was a lapse of silence. Suddenly Arthur changed the subject.

"Father, I'd like to go on a fishing trip."

The king caught on pretty quickly. "Does this have anything to do with your new yacht?"

"…Yes."

Uther nodded. "Fine Arthur. Just take someone with you and be careful. You'll sort it out with your staff?"

"Of course." Arthur could barely contain the triumphant grin on his face.

X-x-x

By someone Merlin was quite sure the king had meant a knight and not the prince's tutor.

"I don't even like fishing!"

"Shut up and pack, Merlin." Arthur threw a pair of pants at her.

Merlin scowled. "I'm not actually your servant," she grumbled.

Arthur just tossed a few more shirts at her head. "And we're not actually going fishing."

Merlin pulled the shirts off her face and began to fold them. "We're not?"

"No we're not." He picked up two pairs of boots. "The black ones or the brown ones?"

"The black ones." She caught them neatly when they flew at her and tucked them away into the trunk as well. "So what are we doing?"

Arthur stilled in his rummaging. "We're going to find my mother."


	10. Hell and High Water

**Chapter 10 – Hell and High Water:**

 

In the end, their departure was anticlimactic compared to all the preparation that went into the trip.

 

Their bags were packed, maps were procured, and plans were made. The _Queen Ygraine_ had left them a few days ago to check on another part of the world. So it was just Arthur's knights, resplendent in their red capes, who stood arrayed on the top deck, seeing them off.

 

Arthur shook the hand of Sir Leon, who, as second in command, would be left in charge of _The Dragon_ in Arthur's place. He exchanged a few words with his uncle Agravaine and nodded at his knights.  

 

Merlin quickly hugged Morgana, Gwen, and Gaius and went to join Arthur at the edge of the deck. Excalibur had already been lowered into the water and was bobbing in the waves. Arthur hopped over the rail and slid down a rope, landing neatly on the deck of the yacht. Merlin, realizing it was now her turn, tried to quell the nerves fluttering in her chest. She climbed to the other side of the rail in an ungainly manner and tightly grasped the rope. Ever so slowly, Merlin inched herself down the rope, hands and thighs clenched in a death grip.

 

"Any day now, Merlin," Arthur called from below.

 

"Yeah? Well shut up!"  

 

The knights on the deck laughed, far too used to their constant ribbing.  

 

But even as she said this, Merlin eased up a little and she moved a bit faster. About ten feet above the yacht, her sweaty palms slipped and Merlin fell, giving a startled yelp. But luckily, Arthur was there at the bottom, ready to catch her. Merlin slammed right into his solid chest feeling slightly winded.

 

Arthur snorted out a laugh and Merlin could feel the rumble from where she was pressed up against him. "See, Merlin? That wasn't so bad."  

 

But his hands, defying his words, were already skimming down her body, checking for injuries. Some small, foolishly noble part of Arthur still insisted on treating her like a glass doll. He visibly held himself back when he remembered that she was a girl.  Merlin was sure if she had been a boy, Arthur would not have been as nice.  

 

She made an irritated growling noise and batted his hands away. "Stop groping me, I'm fine."

 

And Arthur, in a fit of characteristic childishness, stuck out his tongue at her.

 

Morgana leaned over the side of the ship and hollered, "Would you two stop flirting and just leave already?  I want to go inside!"

 

Arthur shrugged and began releasing the cables that tethered them to The Dragon.  Meanwhile, Merlin busied herself with finding somewhere dry to sit that wasn't in Arthur's way.

 

 _Excalibur_ was really more like an old-fashioned junk boat than a yacht, in Merlin’s opinion.  It’s middle to back end was covered by a sort of gently-curved roof made of wood.  The steering wheel and the auxiliary sail was back near the stern, while the main sail was located at the front.

 

Arthur finally figured out the mooring lines and they cast off.  The knights waved and Morgana blew kisses.  As they moved past _The Dragon_ , the prince saluted the figurehead, a wooden dragon fondly named Kilgharrah.  While Arthur went to steer the ship, Merlin kicked off her shoes and dipped her toes in the cool water.  She watched as _The Dragon_ gradually grew smaller and more distant on the horizon.

 

X-x-x

 

It was still early in the day and the sun was still ascending towards its zenith, but the temperature was already rising.  Arthur returned to where Merlin was sitting.  He wiped sweat from his brow. "Why is it so hot?"

 

Merlin tried not to stare as he pulled off his shirt. "It's the green house effect."

 

He gave her one of those _Merlin, you idiot_ looks.  "That was rhetorical."

 

She shrugged. "Well you asked."

 

He ducked out of the shade of the cabin.

 

Merlin got up to stop him.  "Arthur! You're going to ruin your skin out there! There's UV radiation!"

 

"M'not."

 

Merlin peeked out and was met with a bewildering sight. Arthur was wearing sunglasses, a wide-brimmed sombrero, and his cape to cover himself while he adjusted some of the ropes.

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her.  “See?  I know what I’m doing.”

 

X-x-x

 

“Arthur, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

 

A storm was approaching. The sky was shrouded with dark indigo clouds that were roiling and churning at an alarming rate while the air was uneasily still. 

 

“It’s fine, Merlin.  It’ll just blow past,” Arthur reassured though his platitude sounded hollow.  He was tense; his muscles wound up like he was about to go into a fight.

 

Just as Arthur finished uttering his thought, the wind picked up.  It was soon followed by fat raindrops falling from the sky.  They made splattering ripples on the backs of waves that were quickly overwritten as the downpour grew stronger.  All around them came the rhythmic sound of water slapping water and the pitter-patter of the heavens emptying volley after volley of tears onto the earth below. Then the wind added to the din, urging the waves to higher heights and whipping viciously at the flapping sails.

 

Arthur ran to the back of the boat and wrestled with the steering wheel, doing his best to maneuver through the turbulent ocean.  He yelled something at Merlin, but his voice was lost to the cacophony of the elements.  She interpreted his vague hand signals as best she could.

 

Merlin hurried around the cabin, securing loose items and lashing them down as best she could.  Then she tied down, with no small amount of difficulty, the tarp that would partition the cabin from the front half of the boat as well as the outside.

 

Suddenly, with one particularly forceful gust of wind, _Excalibur_ listed to one side, sending both Arthur and Merlin toppling.  The prince shouted something else, but once again, it was drowned out by the overwhelming noise.

 

The yacht tilted again, shuddering against the storm. This sudden movement had Merlin sliding across the inclined wood, scrabbling for purchase, while Arthur clung to the steering wheel.

 

Merlin crawled to him across the floor that was getting increasingly damp as rain and sea water found their way in.  She grabbed on to Arthur's ankle just as the boat rocked once again. They both tumbled to the opposite side, banging heads, jamming knees, and numbing elbows, ending up in a confusing tangle of limbs.  

 

From the look on Arthur's face, it was bad. The prince was never scared. So his fear-filled expression struck anxiety in Merlin as well.

 

Merlin cupped her hand and shouted into Arthur's ear, "We need to take down the sails!" She'd been out fishing enough times to know that much.

 

Arthur dragged himself upright and, using the railing as a crutch, staggered towards the front of the yacht. With fumbling hands he untied the knots of their makeshift tarp divider and stumbled out into the storm. 

 

The rain was falling so hard that it stung his skin and soaked him to the bone in seconds.  Water blurred his vision and slicked the ropes so it was impossible to pull the sails down.  Merlin followed him out, skidding over the slippery deck and swaying as the wind threatened to upend her balance.  She pressed something into his hands while nearly falling on him.  It was his dagger.

 

Arthur made fast work of sawing through the ropes, only dropping the wet knife once.  Bit by bit, the sail went slack as each of the strings were cut.  However the wind still insisted on throwing the sail around, which hampered Arthur’s progress.  Even so, with his hacking and Merlin’s nimble fingers loosening a few knots, the sail was taken down in no time and _Excalibur_ stopped jerking back and forth as violently.

 

Exhausted, and thoroughly storm battered, Arthur and Merlin ducked back into the cabin, and the tarp was sealed back up to block out the worst of the weather.  They stripped off their sodden clothes, which were haphazardly thrown in a corner, and shivering, stepped into dry garments.  Merlin dug out the thick woolen blankets from their packs while Arthur set up their sleeping rolls on the raised and relatively dry ground behind the steering wheel.

 

They hopped into the bedding and swaddled themselves in blankets, but it was still cold; the sleeping rolls were damp and everything was clammy.  Merlin huddled in closer to Arthur and resigned herself to a restless night.

 

X-x-x

 

When Merlin woke up, it was strangely quiet. The roaring of the storm from the night before had subsided, leaving her ears ringing. A little drizzle still tapped on the roof, joined in symphony by the crashing of mildly choppy waves and the sound of Arthur snoring at her back.

 

Merlin turned around and admired the prince's peaceful face for a moment before kicking him into wakefulness.

 

"Mmm Merlin. What?"

 

"Get up, it's morning."  She was already wiggling out of her sleeping roll and immediately wishing she hadn't. Chilly air rushed over her body and all she wanted to do was crawl back into her warm blankets.  Merlin forsook the sleeping roll in favor of finding her day clothes, jacket, and shoes, but couldn't resist snatching just one blanket to wrap around herself.   She scampered across the cold floor to retrieve her things and then skittered back to tuck her frozen toes under Arthur's warm torso.

 

"G'away!" He grumbled, rolling away from her.

 

Merlin followed and shook him by the shoulder. "Come on, sunshine. Let's have you, lazy daisy!"

 

"All right, I'm getting up, now stop bugging me."

 

Merlin went to go check on the state of their travel rations (slightly soggy but intact) while Arthur got dressed and repacked their bedding.  They ate their breakfast of hard bread and cheese quietly, shaking the crumbs into the water when they were done.

 

Finally Arthur slowly untied the tarp flap and poked his head apprehensively outside to survey the damage.  The sail lay limply in a puddle on the deck, severed ropes strewn around it.  But overall, bar that one casualty, _Excalibur_ had emerged unscathed.  Arthur went up to the mast to test it, leaning his weight into it, and found that it had been slightly loosened by the force of the gale.

 

He frowned at the mast. "We need to get that fixed at the next port. Our supplies are low anyways."  Arthur gazed out over the horizon. The sea looked exactly the same from every side. "Any idea where we are?"

 

Merlin stared at him.  "You're kidding. I thought you said you knew how to run a ship."

 

He shrugged sheepishly. "I can. I just can't navigate. Always left that to someone else."

 

Merlin huffed in irritation. She stormed back inside and Arthur followed cautiously. The table had been pulled out of the wall and Merlin had laid out their maps  and was poring over them.  She found a scrap of parchment and a pen and started scribbling out mathematical computations, while muttering quietly to herself.

 

Arthur looked on, but got lost once the vectors came out. He shuddered. He absolutely hated math.

 

After a few more minutes filled with the gentle lull of waves and the _scratch-scratch_ of pen-tip against paper, Merlin finally looked up.  “I think I know where we are.  So we left _The Dragon_ around twenty-eight-minus-one-sixteen.”  She tapped her finger on the surface of the map just west of Mexico.  “Then we travelled for about twelve hours at about 20 knots before the storm hit.  It blew us northeast, and after another twelve hours without a sail we should be at about _here_.”  The finger moved up a centimeter towards California.  “We’re a day away from the nearest town, Orkney.”

 

Arthur leaned in and studied the map. Geography was something he could do.  He nodded an affirmation.  “To Orkney it is.”

 

X-x-x

 

Before pulling into Orkney, they had to prepare a cover story.  The prince of Camelot couldn’t just prance into any city asking for supplies.  It made people less inclined to trust them _and_ it made certain people more inclined to try and rob/kidnap/kill/maim them.

 

Arthur changed into the plainest, coarsest clothes he owned.  Even then, he would likely stick out like a gold piece trying to hide amongst copper coins. With a glance, everyone would be able to tell that he was definitely not a peasant. And then there was that regal swagger that was so Arthur, that imperious, commanding nature that no rags could conceal.

 

There really was no arguing with him.  Arthur, the oblivious fool, saw nothing wrong with his shoddy disguise.  Merlin just hoped the people of Orkney would humor him and assume that he was some minor noble’s youngest son playing dress-up.

 

When they neared the harbor, dock hands ran out to meet them. Arthur tossed the mooring lines to them and they hauled _Excalibur_ in.  The prince hopped off the boat to help tie the ropes down.

 

Merlin pulled an empty knapsack onto her back and tucked Arthur’s bag of coins securely into her sash.  She had been forced to change out of her tunic and leggings and back into a dress, since it wasn’t socially acceptable or some other rot.  But underneath her skirts, Merlin was still wearing her boots, because really, who wanted to walk around in flimsy slippers all day?

 

As she climbed out of the yacht, one of the dock workers moved to give her a hand.  Arthur immediately put a stop to that notion with a disgusted look.  The man retreated, quailing under the prince’s glare and Arthur swanned forward, offering Merlin his arm.  She sighed and let him help her out of the boat.  Why did Arthur have to be so obnoxious in public?

 

“You have the money?”

 

Merlin nodded.

 

“Bag? List? Knife?”

 

“I’ll be fine.”  She smiled at him, wanting to assuage his worry.  “Meet back at the end of the main street in an hour?”

 

Arthur hummed in confirmation, reluctant to leave her. 

 

Merlin dropped a peck on his cheek and squeezed his arm.  “I’ll be fine,” she repeated.  “I won’t get into trouble.  Promise.”

 

X-x-x

 

While Arthur went to find someone to repair his yacht, Merlin found her way into the little town to buy supplies.  The town center consisted of a few crooked dirt roads sketched into a grid, lined with mismatched buildings. Down the middle of Orkney, cutting it neatly in half, was its only paved road.  The main street was one long marketplace, crammed with stalls, each one owner vying for customers. 

 

Unlike Ealdor, Orkney thrived solely off of the boat traffic that came through the port town.  Merchants from all over had dropped off their wares so there were astonishingly wide varieties of items to choose from.  By the end of an hour, Merlin’s bag was stuffed with provisions and other small things she’d picked up.  She leaned against a squat stucco shop with red terracotta roof tiles, waiting for Arthur to turn up.  Merlin amused herself with scoping out passerby and trying to imagine their life stories.  Her attention was soon drawn to the copious amount of shouting coming from the tavern down the street.  Finally one man ducked out, with mugs thrown after him, and bolted down the street, barreling down buyers and sellers alike.  Merlin laughed out loud at one woman’s affronted squawk after her display of ugly scarves was knocked over.

 

The man kept running until he reached the shop Merlin was standing in front of.  He met her wide-eyed gaze and bought a finger to his lips before darting inside.  A few minutes later, a drunken posse thundered right by the man’s hiding place and continued down the street.  They stopped, confused, when the road ran out and their quarry was no where in sight.  The men scratched their heads, turned around, and lumbered back to the tavern. 

 

When they were gone, the man reappeared.  He came to stand next to her.  “Thank you, love.  Now I do hope my friends didn’t give a pretty girl such as yourself any trouble.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow.  The man was roguishly handsome, long flippy hair, light stubble, and a narrow-eyed smoldering gaze. He seemed harmless enough, but she remained alert.  For one, the man was remarkably sober even though he could barely walk straight moments earlier.  “From my experience, friends don’t chase each other down the street like that.”

 

“Really?” 

 

Merlin did her best not to notice the calming timbre of the man’s cocky drawl.

 

“Then you ought to consider getting yourself new friends, darling.”

 

She threw her head back and laughed and the man followed the movement closely with his eyes.  Then all of a sudden he said, sweeping his tri-cornered hat off his head, “Captain Gwaine Lothian.”

 

“Merlin Emrys.”  She inclined her head like she’d been taught to do at court.  “You’re really a captain?”

 

Gwaine moved in closer to her.  “Aye.  My vessel –“

 

"Merlin!"  Arthur rounded the corner and stopped dead when he saw them.

 

Gwaine gave him a brief once-over.  "Who are you?"

 

"Her husband," Arthur said aggressively, coming to sling a possessive arm around Merlin's waist.

 

Gwaine glanced between them, assessing. "You are, are ye?" he murmured. His eyes finally settled on Merlin, and she shifted, feeling hot under his burning gaze.

 

Arthur tugged her away from him.  “I spoke to the boatwright,” he told her in a low voice.  “He won’t be getting the necessary materials for another week and I don’t want to stay here. We need to –“

 

“I’ve a boat,” Gwaine interjected loudly.  “And a magnificent thing it is too.  Perhaps you’d like me to give you a lift.”

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man.  “Maybe.  Depends if you can help us.  We’re looking for something, or rather, someone.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“What do you know about the Lost Queen’s Island?”

 

x-x-x

 

“You’re a pirate,” Arthur said flatly when he saw Gwaine’s galleon flying a Jolly Roger.

 

“I am and a bloody good one too.  You’re about to make a right fuss, aren’t you?”

 

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but Gwaine cut him off.  “Now listen to me, princess.  I am the only one who knows the whereabouts of your mysterious little island.  So you will shut it.  Savvy?”

 

Merlin elbowed him in the ribs.  “Say yes.”

 

The prince threw his hands up.  “Fine.”  But after that he muttered to himself, “Blasted pirates.”

 

X-x-x

 

Merlin and Arthur went to retrieve their belongings from _Excalibur_ , which would be staying with the boatwright. While in town, Arthur penned a quick letter to Leon and bought a bird to fly it out to _The Dragon_.  Then they returned to the dock where they met Gwaine’s seedy-looking crew.

 

Merlin found them rather frightening, and lecherous to boot, but Gwaine seemed to trust them.  Nonetheless, she stayed close to Arthur while they were around.

 

At around sundown they cast off.  Earlier, Gwaine had graciously shown them on a map exactly where they were headed.

 

_“So where the hell are you taking us?” Arthur asked.  He was tactless when distrustful._

 

_Gwaine produced a strange, ancient map with odd symbols and landmarks drawn where Merlin was quite sure no land existed.  He showed it to her and waved a hand in the general direction of the map.  “That’s where you’ll be headed.”_

 

_Merlin peered at the map and its bizarre illustrations.  “I’m sorry, where?”_

_Gwaine made another vague hand gesture.  “Somewhere in that vicinity.  Not sure yet.  Don’t worry yourself, love.”_

_Arthur gave Merlin a look that clearly said, ‘if we die, this is entirely your fault.’_

Then they dined with the sailors in a cramped common room below decks.  The only source of light had been misshapen tallow candles sitting in metal brackets that dangled from the ceiling and were constantly in motion with every sway of the ship.  Seated around a dingy table and eating overcooked fish from rough pewter plates didn’t sit well with Arthur.  Especially when the crew grew rowdier and rowdier with each tankard of rum.  Every time Merlin reached over to refill her cup or get the salt or for no reason at all, they would unsubtly leer at her chest.  Poor Merlin was reduced to curling up on the chair, hugging her knees and refusing to eat.  Over the course of the night, Arthur progressively pressed his lips into a thinner and thinner line until Merlin feared they’d disappear all together.  Finally he’d had enough.  He got up and helped Merlin up as well, folding her into his arms to protect her from wandering eyes.

Gwaine, who surprisingly picked up on Arthur’s sour mood, approached them.  “Merlin will take my cabin.  I’ll sleep below with my men.”  The captain escorted them from the common room.

Arthur nodded.  It was only right after all.  He made for the sailors’ bunks, but was stopped by Gwaine.“Ho there, mate.  I didn’t say you couldn’t sleep with your woman.”

 

It took Arthur a moment to remember that they were "married". He followed Merlin into the captain’s cabin and immediately Gwaine shut the door behind them, calling gleefully, "Sleep well!"

 

Merlin and Arthur stood at opposite ends of the bed avoiding each other’s eyes. They were close friends, there was no doubt about that, but still, this was something they'd never done, share a bed. Arthur usually wouldn't make such a big fuss out of it, but Merlin had kissed him and he kind of was in love with her, but he valued their friendship too much to risk making any potentially unwanted advances.

 

“Usually I would say head to toe, but I know for a fact that your feet stink.  Do you want the right of the left?”

 

Arthur stared at her.  “Um…left.”

 

“Perfect, I always sleep on the right anyways.  Just don’t smother me in the middle of the night, kay?”

 

He wondered how she could be so casual about this.  Merlin didn’t even seem bothered when he stripped off his shirt and changed into sleep pants right in front of her.  Arthur himself, felt his mouth go dry at the sight of Merlin twisting around to undo the laces of her dress.  She shrugged out of her layers and Arthur got a flash of a smooth pale back, slim waist, and _were those back dimples?_ before Merlin pulled on an oversized shirt that fell to her knees.  Arthur had a sneaking suspicious that her night shirt had belonged to him at one point and she’d filched it instead of mending it.

 

Merlin crawled into the bed and looked expectantly at Arthur.  “Well?  Come on.  And blow out the candles while you’re up.”

 

Dumbly, Arthur did what she said and felt his way around in the dark until his knees bumped into the bed frame.  He climbed under the cold sheets, painfully aware of Merlin’s presence only inches away.  Arthur wasn’t sure how long it took to succumb to the gentle creaking of the boat and Merlin’s quiet breathing and fall asleep.

 


	11. Leaders and Followers

**Chapter 11 – Leaders and Followers:**

 

Merlin woke up blissfully warm and content, so she was suspicious at once.  She gawked, disoriented, at the light filtering through the dirty window and the faded wood paneling and the not-so-fresh sheets and the…muscular arm around her waist.  And suddenly, the heat pressed along her back made a lot more sense.

 

Arthur was sleeping peacefully behind her, his chest flush against her back.  Merlin could feel his soft exhales on the back of her neck, and instead of being annoying, like it should have been, it was oddly comforting.  She snuggled closer into Arthur’s arms and he shifted almost imperceptibly to tighten his hold.  Merlin stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, reveling in how easy it was, how wonderful it was to be held and to be cherished. Merlin could get used to waking up like this everyday; and if she shut her eyes, she could almost pretend that this _was_ reality, and that Arthur _did_ have feelings for her beyond mutual affection.

 

And that train of thought was stopped before it could leave the station.  Wandering down that path would achieve nothing but trouble.  In one swift movement, Merlin wiggled out of Arthur’s arms, vaulted out of bed, and went to get dressed.

 

X-x-x

 

Arthur had woken up before dawn, his inner clock kicking in despite being in a different time zone. He tensed immediately upon opening his eyes when he registered the unfamiliar environment, relaxed when he realized where he was, and tensed again when he became aware of whose back he was draped over.  Merlin just mumbled incoherently in her sleep, and Arthur didn’t have the heart to jostle her out of what was clearly a very comfortable position just because it was awkward. 

 

He tried his best to go back to sleep, but it was difficult when the soft, not-quite-flowery scent of Merlin’s hair was pervading his nostrils and he was hyper-aware of his arm rising and falling rhythmically with Merlin’s deep slumberous breathing.  After a while, just as Arthur felt his consciousness slipping and his limbs growing heavy, Merlin stirred.  He panicked and forced his body to relax, feigning sleep.

 

Merlin shifted, and Arthur could pick out, from her sharp intake of breath, the exact moment she grasped the situation. But she didn’t immediately flinch or flee like Arthur expected her to, just the opposite, she _nestled closer_.  Arthur had to try very hard not to reciprocate.  And it was better than nice, it was all the way up there with glorious and spectacular and other the colorful vocabulary he was supposed to use in his writing.

 

And then Merlin squirmed away, leaving him bereft. The springs creaked, announcing her departure from the bed and then it was far too cold and empty.  Arthur continued to control his breathing and keep his body still, to prolong the charade.  He heard Merlin get dressed with quick efficient motions, and if he weren’t faced the other way, he would have tried to sneak a peek.

 

Arthur waited for the click that would indicate her exit, but it didn’t come.  He heard her steps come closer, returning towards the bed.  The curiosity was too much to resist and Arthur opened his eyes a crack.  Merlin’s arm dove under her side of the pillow and retrieved a mess of silver.  It was the necklace she always wore, but was extremely close-mouthed about.  Arthur still didn’t know what pendant hung at the end of the chain.

 

Like a viper, his hand darted out and caught Merlin’s wrist.  She was startled, but not too startled since, before Arthur could react, she transferred the necklace to her other hand and tucked it away in her pocket.  Merlin glared at him.  “Must you scare me like that?”

 

Arthur paid no attention to her question.  “Can we talk?”

 

“About what?”  She instantly became guarded and withdrawn.

 

“About,” he gestured between them, “ _us_.  Whatever this _thing_ is that we’re dancing around.”

 

“There’s nothing between us,” Merlin responded, a touch too hasty.

 

“ _Mer_ lin.  You kissed me, remember?”

 

“A mistake.”

 

Arthur balked at the venom in her tone, wounded by her words.  “Are you sure –“

 

Merlin cut him off abruptly.  “Yes.”

 

He made a frustrated noise. “Merlin!  I’m trying to have a meaningful conversation with you.”

 

“Well, could you not?” she snapped.

 

They stared at each other, reaching an impasse.  Arthur was half risen off the bed, his fingers still circling Merlin’s wrist.  She shook him off and stomped out of the room. 

 

When Merlin flung the door open, Gwaine took step back from where he was about to knock.  She stormed past him without a word.  The captain raised his eyebrows in amusement.  “Lover’s spat?”

 

“Something like that,” Arthur huffed, getting out of bed and pulling his clothes on. “Bloody women.”

 

Gwaine nodded, sympathetic.  “I know, mate.  They’re fickle.”  He gazed off into the distance and Arthur could see through the doorway that Gwaine’s eyes were on Merlin.  “But that one.  I like her.  You don’t see a girl like that too often.”  His expression was distinctly shark-like.

 

Arthur frowned.  Recently, he’d been spending far too much time fending off Merlin’s admirers.  In the end, he just spouted something neutral and shoved past Gwaine to get breakfast.

 

X-x-x

 

It took them another two days to reach their destination.  From Arthur’s vague understanding, they had entered the San Francisco Strait and were now sailing in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Bay, which occupied what had once been California’s Central Valley.  The Lost Queen’s Island was one of the lower mountains in the Sierra Nevada range that had been submerged until only its tip stuck out.  Supposedly, that was where his mother had been born and where she was laid to rest.  And that was where Arthur was headed.

 

Gwaine stood on the deck, telescope in one hand, compass and map in the other. He was flipping between the three, staring out at the ocean, squinting at the map, and shaking the compass with a confused look on his face.

 

“Is something wrong?” Arthur asked.

 

Gwaine scowled at his map.  “Perhaps.  We should be heading to the southern end of SSJ Bay, yet we are sailing north.”

 

“Have you gotten us lost?”

 

The captain shook his head vigorously.  “This has nothing whatsoever to do with me –“

 

“Watch out!” Arthur shouted.

 

Gwaine spun around to see one of his crew members running at him with a club.  The captain drew his sword and disarmed the man, then knocked him out with a blow to the head.  The man crumpled to the ground, but his charge seemed to be some kind of signal, because after that, more of the crew emerged, crudely armed and shouting bloody murder.  Arthur was grimly pleased that he’d been paranoid enough to keep his sword on him.  He pulled out his weapon just in time for one of the thugs to attack him.  And then another.  And another. 

 

Arthur’s decade of training kicked in and he became a blur of action.  He parried one blade and then pivoted to block a low-line attack then ducked to avoid a floundering swipe meant to decapitate.  With more and more sailors pressing in, it was impossible to go on the offense.  All Arthur could do was hold them off as long was he could, but he knew it was futile.  No reinforcements were coming, it was him and Gwaine up against about fifteen crew members.  Despite fighting like clumsy brutes, their sheer number put the odds in their favor.  This wasn’t a structured duel like what Arthur was used to, these men didn’t play by any rules.  This was a mutiny, and they were out for blood.

 

Gwaine was surrounded by a similar mob of the men he had once trusted.  And since he was the captain, they were attacking with a viciousness that Arthur had been spared.  Gwaine had always taken pride in his swordsmanship, but one man could only do so much.  A few luckily landed blows and a particularly nasty cut to the leg had him down for the count. He was swiftly disarmed, pushed to his knees, and bound up with a length of rope.  Arthur was similarly restrained, though it took them a bit longer to subdue him.  Gwaine had to admit his grudging respect for the man’s skill with a blade.

 

“Your quarrel is with me, not our guest.  Let him go,” Gwaine commanded.

 

The man who was allegedly in charge of the mutiny, a rat-faced louse named Cedric stepped forward.  “Ya ain’t our capt’n no more.  We ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

 

Another man ran up.  “Look what we found in ‘is bags!”  He pulled out Arthur’s red cape, the Pendragon crest blaringly obvious.  “Sonny ‘ere is a knight!”

 

“Who cares?” Someone else shouted.  “Jus check if ‘e’s got dough.”

 

The man rummaged in Arthur’s pack. Arthur winced, waiting for him to find the colossal amount of money he’d stashed away.  But he came up empty handed.  “’e ain’t got none.  Which one of ya rats took it?”

 

His accusation resulted in a brief scuffle that distracted the crew for a minute.  They gathered around the two men, shouting “Fight! Fight!”

 

But soon enough they returned their attention to Gwaine and Arthur.  Cedric stalked up to the two prisoners cockily, a move he wouldn't have dated to do if they hadn't been trussed up.  "Ya may've hidden ya cash, but we can still get somethin' outta ya. The ol' lord o' tha mount'n'll pay to get 'is hands on th' likes of ya."

 

"Oi! Wha 'bout tha girl eh? Where she get off to?"

 

Two men peeled off the main group and lumbered away to find Merlin. They found her barricaded in the pantry. It was quick work from there, ramming down the door and dragging her up to the main deck.

 

"Don't touch me, you moron!"

 

The man ignored her until she stuck a dagger through his hand. He howled and hopped around in pain. Arthur stifled a laugh.

 

Merlin was backhanded across the face and the blow had her reeling backwards. Right into the other sailor's arms.  He tied Merlin's wrists behind her back and pushed her down next to Arthur.  She glanced at his bleeding injuries with worry writ across her face. He dismissed it with a microscopic shake of his head.

 

Both of their heads snapped up when the man in the crow's nest called, "Land ho!"

 

Looming majestic over all of their heads was a jagged mountain range, dotted with scrawny vegetation and pockmarked with caves. And while the crew had been occupied with staring at the landscape, Arthur surged to his feet and landed a kick on the thug guarding him. His oof! when Arthur's foot connected with his solar plexus alerted the others. The prince was quickly taken down again and struck over the head with the pommel of his own sword. Arthur slumped, unconscious, a ruby bead of blood skating down his temple. Merlin and Gwaine quickly shut up and made themselves look as far from intimidating as possible.

 

The boat stopped about half a mile out from the coast.  They rowed ashore in two separate rowboats, one with Merlin, Gwaine, and three of the crew, the other with Arthur, Cedric, and three more goons. A man dressed in rough robes stood with three horses, waiting for them at the water's edge.

 

The three of them were tossed out of the boats unceremoniously the instant they reached the shore. Merlin tripped and fell in the wet sand, creating two damp spots in the fabric of her skirt. She struggled to her feet before the men could prod her forward and make her stumble again. Arthur, still out cold, was thrown over one man's shoulder and then hefted over the back of one of the horses. Merlin and Gwaine, on the other hand, were tied to the bridle of the other horse by rope leashes, while Cedric mounted the animal himself.

 

Their guide, sent by the "Lord of the Mountain", lashed the horse Arthur was on to his own steed and set off down a barely-there path up the mountain. He had to pause every few minutes to let Merlin and Gwaine catch up. The trail was treacherous, loose shale giving way under their feet and tumbling all the way to the bottom of the steep incline. Merlin, because she was just not built for it, and Gwaine because he was battered from the skirmish earlier, were not having a fun time. It took them about half an hour to travel about a mile to their final destination, a dilapidated castle.  

 

Merlin wished Arthur was conscious for this; she knew he’d appreciate the irony buried somewhere in there.  And his warrior mind was a lot more proficient than hers at committing every escape route to memory.

 

They entered the castle courtyard to a flurry of activity.  A bewildering amount of people were everywhere, carrying strings of fish, leading squalling toddlers, or balancing woven baskets filled with dirty laundry.  Their arrival went mostly unnoticed, which made Merlin wonder if seeing tied up and/or knocked out hostages was a daily occurrence. But one man did notice their presence.  He strode over with the stern countenance of one not to be messed with.

 

“Seneschal,” their guide murmured with deference.  “I have the pirate and the captives.”

 

The seneschal favored the man with a brusque nod.  “Leave the mutineer and the captain with me.  Take the other two to the dungeon.  They will be dealt with later.”

 

Their guide gestured at a few men to help him.  Together, they hauled Arthur off his horse and dragged him away.  Merlin was almost an afterthought.  Someone cut her lead rope from Gwaine’s and led her across the courtyard.  Now the people openly gawked and parted like the red sea for her.  Merlin had to refrain from showing them an inappropriate hand gesture.

 

“Careful, sweetheart,” the man escorting her said when they reached the stairs.  He held out a hand to aid her descent.

 

Merlin bared her teeth at him like an angry cat.  “Call me sweetheart again and I’ll skin you.”

 

He didn’t offer to help her again, but he sure as hell looked tempted to when Merlin nearly pitched face-first over an unseen threshold.  Her fierce snarl, however, held him off.  She’d had it compounded into her head that men were creepers.  With the amount of psychopaths she ran into on a daily basis, Merlin wasn’t taking any chances with these strangers.

 

They reached the dungeons just as Arthur was being dropped off.  Her chaperone dumped her in the same cell, too lazy to find the keys to another one.  It was small: ten by ten feet square, surrounded on three sides by stone and one with a metal grate, and carpeted with moldy hay.  The only source of light was a tiny, high window and the meager torches outside the cells.

 

After their shuffling footsteps and jangle of metal faded away, Merlin was left with her own breathing, the skittering of rodents, and an incessant leak that reminded her too much of the brig.  She got up and went to check on Arthur.  He was breathing pretty regularly, but still unconscious.  There were a few shallow scrapes on his arms and sides, blood clotted and dried, and a couple deeper ones that had been reopened over the course of their journey.  What worried Merlin was the lump that was sure to be on his head.

 

She turned her body and scooted around until her bound hands could reach the knife concealed in Arthur’s boot.  There were a few weapons stashed on her person as well but this was easier to access.  Then, balanced on her knees, Merlin unsheathed the blade and gripped it with her feet. Carefully, she stretched the rope taut between her wrists and brought it to the knife, sawing back and forth with slow, measured motions.

 

Once her hands were free, Merlin cut Arthur free as well so he wouldn’t strain his shoulders.  Then she saw to his injuries as best she could, cleaning them gently with the dubious water from the pail in the corner and tearing strips off one of the shifts she was wearing to use as bandages.  On the whole, Merlin did a rather shoddy job.  She hoped Arthur would wake up soon, so he’d be able to dress the wounds better himself.

 

Merlin ghosted her questing fingertips over the crown of Arthur’s head.  The knob wasn’t too hard to find; it had bled profusely and though she had just wiped his face clean, it was beaded with ruby drops once again.  Merlin pulled his head onto her lap and lightly dabbed at it.  Arthur made a whimpering, pained noise.  She decided to leave it and ask for ice or a poultice later.  Instead she traced curious fingers over the uninjured parts of Arthur’s face, swooping down his nose, outlining his jaw, and venturing over his collarbones.  When Merlin began to feel a bit weird about touching the prince in his comatose state, she played with his hair, making little braids and letting it slip out again, or just combing her fingers through the strands, enjoying the silky feel.

 

That was what Arthur woke up to, soft hands stroking his head.  When Merlin realized he was coming round, she made to move away, but Arthur caught her hands and tugged them back.  “S’nice.  Don’t stop,” he mumbled. 

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

Arthur's hands came up to feel the swelling on his head and the crudely-dressed gashes on his body and he winced. "Not too great."

 

She just continued to pet his hair and Arthur tried not to purr like a sleepy kitten.

 

"So where are we?" He eventually asked.

 

Merlin glanced around. "In a dungeon."

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh thanks, I didn't notice."

 

She frowned at him but continued, "We're in some sort of castle on an island in the northern part of the Sacramento-San Jacinto Bay.  I assume Cedric intends to sell us for some sort of bounty to the overlord here. So we're not exactly in danger –“

 

"Just in prison," Arthur finished for her. "Even if we did escape, we've lost everything. It'll be impossible to return to Orkney or get word to Leon without any money."

 

That made Merlin start grinning like a loon. "But we haven't lost everything."  She reached down into her boots and pulled out folded maps, including Gwaine's nonsensical one along with multiple daggers. "When I saw you were in trouble, I went back to our room and took everything important, maps, knives, money. Then on my way to the kitchen I found the sailors' bunks and took most of their earnings." Merlin fished out coins from down the front of her dress, concealed in the sash, the bodice, the pockets, and tucked into the seams. " _And_ I put a hole in all their barrels to drain their rum supply," she finished gleefully.

 

Arthur’s mouth fell open. "I think I love you right now."  He also made a mental note to never ever get on Merlin’s bad side.

 

She looked down at him and smiled fondly.  The tender expression was promptly wiped off her face by the clink of keys and chain mail heralding the approach of guards.  Arthur scrambled to a sitting position, swaying and biting back a groan when the vertigo and headache hit him all at once.  Right away, Merlin’s steadying hands were there, ready in case he fell.  Arthur ignored her and lurched to his feet using the rough-hewn stone wall as leverage.  He took a few uneven steps forwards and placed himself between the entryway and Merlin.

 

The guards weren’t fazed by the gesture. They unlocked the door and went in, two of them grabbing Arthur and another man taking Merlin.  Their wrists were swiftly clasped in shackles, and this time Merlin would not be able to cut them free with only her feet and a dagger. They were marched out of the dungeons and up to the throne room through a passage which was built for that express purpose of transporting prisoners.

 

There was a man sitting in a plain wooden chair on the dais where a throne was meant to stand.  In fact, all of the furniture in the room was mismatched and shabby, completely out of place in the majestic hall.  Gwaine fidgeted in the center of the room, untied but resembling a chastised child.

 

“Another one, Gwaine?” the man was saying, exasperated.  “This the third crew you’ve lost.  I’m afraid I can’t grant you another one.”

 

The pirate was nodding sadly.  “I understand, my lord.  But for the record, I did bring back some precious cargo.”

 

The man on the throne sat back and regarded Arthur and Merlin.  “I suppose I can’t disagree with that.  You’re dismissed, Gwaine, I’ll speak with you at another time.”

 

Gwaine gave an extravagant bow complete with hat sweeping and hand waving and then hurried out.

 

Arthur and Merlin were prodded forward by some unseen hand signal.  They were scrutinized by the man, though he skated over Merlin, indecipherable eyes lingering on Arthur.  He eventually got up and descended the platform to investigate further.  Finally he spoke.  “Welcome to the Isle of the Dragonlords, Prince Arthur.”

 

Arthur didn’t even flinch, although Merlin’s loud gasp was reaction enough for the both of them.  “Lord Balinor,” he acknowledged.

 

“Very good,” Balinor responded.  “And you know what I do here?”

 

“From what I understand, you run a madhouse filled with people who would love to kill me.”

 

Balinor, luckily, seemed more amused than offended.  “We like to use the word _sanctuary_. And it’s nothing personal, more like guilt by association.  You see, for that same reason, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to return or you’ll surely lead your father here, and I can’t have that.  I am responsible for all these people, you know.”

 

The guards swarmed forth and restrained Arthur and Merlin.  “Stop!” Arthur shouted.  “Let her go!”

 

Merlin struggled fiercely.  “Shut up, Arthur, I’m not leaving you.”

 

Balinor suddenly seized her by the shoulders, his face pale and his eyes fixated on something.  He caught her necklace, which had fallen out from where it had been tucked in her bodice.  “Where did you get this?” he asked in a low, frightened voice.

 

“I –I don’t –“

 

He shook her.  “Tell me!  Who did you steal this from?”

 

Merlin tried to shrink away, but Balinor’s hand was clamped on her arm.  “I didn’t, I swear!  It’s mine!”

 

“Don’t lie to me, girl!” Balinor snarled.

 

Arthur wrestled with the guards behind them.  “Just give it to him, Merlin.  Just let him have it!”

 

Balinor froze.  He looked into Merlin’s eyes and recoiled as if he were burned.  “ _Merlin_?  You can’t be –“

 

Merlin was a step ahead of him, her confusion clearing in seconds.  She moved closer to Balinor.  “You’re him, aren’t you?  The man from the picture?  You’re my –“ she choked around the unfamiliar word.  “ –father.”


	12. Past and Present

**Chapter 12 - Past and Present:**

 

Coming to the same conclusion, Balinor turned to the guards and commanded, "Untie her!"

 

Arthur stuck his hands out expectantly as well. Merlin gestured at the hesitant guard. "Him too. I can vouch for his silence."

 

She glared at Arthur, daring him to contradict her words. He deflated slightly and nodded his acquiescence. The guard unlocked Arthur at Merlin’s behest.

 

Balinor shepherded them into an antechamber where they all settled on more eccentric furniture, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s face.

 

“I see it now,” he remarked with wonder.  “I don’t know how I missed it.”  Balinor was lost in thought for a moment.  “Hunith.  Is she – ?” He trailed off, unwilling to give voice to his newfound fear.

 

“She’s fine,” Merlin reassured quickly. “But she still thinks you’re dead.”

 

This made the Dragonlord frown.  “Yet I distinctly remember sending a man to find you.  He returned with news of your unexpected death due to some sort of bandit raid orchestrated by the king.”

 

Merlin narrowed her eyes.  “And we were told by your man that _you_ died in a shipwreck.”

 

“So we have a traitor in our midst,” he concluded. “I’ll be sure to have someone look into it.” 

 

Their entire rapid-fire conversation had occurred over the brief span of a minute. Arthur could barely decipher each comment before the other was speaking again.

 

“In retrospect, I suppose it was foolish of me not to personally confirm his report,” Balinor mused without humor.  “Though it is one less blood feud I can claim to have.”

 

Merlin brightened and slipped her hand into Arthur’s, squeezing it encouragingly.  “So you won’t be killing him?”

 

“I never said that.”

 

Not dissuaded in the slightest, Merlin insisted, “He won’t tell, I can promise you that.”

 

“I may be able to refrain from killing him, but I can’t guarantee the actions of everyone else,” Balinor replied evasively.

 

Merlin cocked her head shrewdly.  “So what are you proposing?”

 

“He’ll be safest behind bars.”

 

“No,” she said firmly.  “I’ll share my room if I have to, but we are not leaving him down there.”

 

“Fine,” Balinor allowed.  He addressed one of the men posted by the door of the room.  “Make sure one of the guest rooms has been prepared for Lady Merlin and her champion.”

 

Merlin waited until the man had left the room to let out her fit of suppressed giggles.  “ _Lady_ Merlin,” she marveled.  “Hear that, Arthur?  I’m a lady now.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “Yes _Mer_ lin. I was here when he said it, remember?”

 

Balinor chose to overlook their immaturity.  “You’re my daughter, you deserve no lesser honor.  However, the title comes with commitment.  You’ll be written into my will as my natural heir. Should something happen to me, the people here will look to you for guidance.”

 

Merlin nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

 

Just then, the man returned to the antechamber with a servant.  “My lord?  The room is ready.”

 

Balinor stood up.  “I’m sure you are weary from the events of this morning.  Go with Gilli to your room.  I’ll send a healer to you.  We’ll speak again later.”

 

Merlin sank into a shallow curtsey and Arthur inclined his head respectfully at Balinor.  They followed the servant, Gilli, from the room, through the throne room, and out into the busy corridor.  The entire trip to their chambers, Gilli alternated between casting curious looks at Merlin and skittish ones at Arthur.  It really didn’t help that every time his eyes strayed near Merlin, Arthur would glower at the poor man.

 

Gilli dropped them off, relieved and reluctant in equal measures. Merlin was sure that within the hour, what he had witnessed would be bullied or cajoled out of him and the entire castle would soon know about her arrival.

 

Arthur ignored Gilli and stalked inside to survey their new accommodations. Merlin waited in the doorway and thanked him for his help. Gilli instantly flushed red and stuttered out a, "Y-you’re welcome m'lady."

 

Arthur's harrumph from inside the room sent him scurrying away after that.  

 

Merlin shut the door and turned around. The room was spacious, and as a result also quite drafty. But there was a merry fire blazing on the hearth in the huge fireplace to keep them warm. It was likely one of the finest rooms in the castle, yet the furniture was crude and would likely look more befitting in a cabin than its current environment. Yet then there were the fine linens and delicate candleholders that did not mesh with the rest of the furnishings. Merlin figured they were the spoils of pirate looting that had been brought back and were now doubling as decor.

 

Merlin was in the middle of unearthing all the items she’d stashed in the depths of her skirt when a knock sounded.  She hastily swept all the coins into a single dirty pouch, which now bulged at the seams.  Then she launched herself across the room to kick the assortment of weapons she’d stolen under the bed.

 

Arthur thought it was rather impressive that she had been armed to the teeth and anybody looking at her would’ve been none the wiser.  That wasn’t to say she actually knew how to use any of it, but still.

 

Someone knocked again, louder.  Arthur positioned himself casually on the bed, the picture of nonchalance, while Merlin went to answer the door.

 

It was an elderly woman, her wispy light brown hair pulled back in a braid.  She smiled at Merlin.  “Hello Milady, Sir Knight. I am a healer.  My name is Alice.”

 

Merlin returned the smile and let her in. "But please, call me Merlin.  And this is Arthur."

 

He glared. On second thought, maybe she should have used a fake name.

 

Alice bustled around, setting up water and salves and bandages before making her way to the bed to check on Arthur's  injuries.

 

Merlin hovered; she didn't want to be in the way, but at the same time she wished to keep an eye on what the healer was doing.  Alice cleaned and redressed Arthur's  cuts and gave him a tonic for his light concussion.  

 

"That looks like the stuff Gaius makes –“, Merlin's voice trailed off when she realized her mistake again.

 

Alice looked up hopefully. "You know Gaius?  How is he?"

 

"He's fine," Merlin responded stiffly, wondering what exactly her relation was to Gaius.

 

A speculative glint came into her eyes. "If you know Gaius, that means you're from Uther's ship."

 

Merlin quickly tried to salvage the situation. She was pretty sure that having any association with Uther, for example living at his court or _being his bloody son_ , would get them murdered in their beds here.  "Um no, we don't," she said lamely, though it wasn't a lie, they lived on _Arthur’s_ ship. "Gaius is my uncle. He –uh –made my mother something like that when she was sick."

 

Alice was suspicious and oddly disappointed for a moment before she gasped. "If you're Gaius' niece... then you're Hunith's girl... You're alive!  Bal must be so happy." She took Merlin's hand and patted it fondly. "Welcome home, Lady Merlin."

 

"Thank you Alice."

 

Arthur cleared his throat.  Loudly.

 

Alice frowned but took the hint. She gathered her things and walked slowly to the door. "If you ever need anything Merlin dear, just let me know."

 

"I will, thank you."

 

Having no reason left to stay, Alice departed.

 

Arthur fell back so he was spread eagled on the bed. "Thank God. I thought she'd never leave."

 

“What?  You don’t trust her?”

 

“Hell no.  She’s definitely hiding something.”

 

Merlin hummed in agreement.  She pushed Arthur’s foot out of the way and sat down on the corner of the mattress, leaning her back against a bed post.  "Arthur?  How much do you know about the Dragonlords?"

 

Arthur rolled over to look at her. "Not much, just what my father's told me."

 

"It's more than me. Everything I know is from what I've deduced in the past few minutes.  I’ve actually never heard of them."

 

The prince nodded.  “You wouldn’t.  It’s a classified royal secret.  My father forbade people from mentioning them and he then went on a book-burning rampage.”

 

“ _Book-burning_?” Merlin asked, scandalized.

 

Arthur hid a smile.  Merlin and her precious books.  “Yeah, the Dragonlords are a really old family, and mysterious too.  There were _a lot_ of books.  All that information.  Must have taken _ages_ to write.  Made a nice fire, though.”

 

Merlin’s mouth fell open in horror until she realized Arthur was baiting her.  She aimed a kick at his leg.  “Stop it!”

 

He just laughed and continued.  “So everything I know is likely extremely biased or just flat out bullshit.  My father told me everyone in your family is a criminal or an anarchist plotting to overthrow the monarchy or insane, corrupted, not to be trusted –you get the gist.  And they possess some sort of powerful weapon that they stole from him.  They’re enemies of the empire, wanted dead or alive, and suggested to be killed on sight.”

 

“ _Great_.  And my father is -?”, Merlin prompted.

 

“He’s the last Dragonlord alive,” Arthur replied. “Though not for Uther’s lack of trying.  From what I understand, there was a personal betrayal a long time ago.  He’s been searching for this place for years.”

 

“And this castle has become an asylum for all the people who hate the Pendragons,” Merlin guessed.

 

“Basically.”

 

“So your father hates my father and my father isn’t too fond of yours either.  But I don’t hate you and you don’t hate me,” she concluded.

 

“Quite the opposite,” Arthur confirmed.

 

Merlin beamed at him and turned the conversation to lighter topics.

 

*

 

Several hours later, they found themselves seated at a plain dinner table, dining with Lord Balinor.  Arthur and Merlin had cleaned up and changed into borrowed clothing; Arthur in a simple tunic and trousers, Merlin in a modest frock.  For the first time, Arthur wasn’t sitting in the first seat on the right. Merlin had been put next to her father and Arthur to the right of her.  He didn’t actually mind, it was better to have a buffer between him and the Dragonlord.

 

Merlin and Balinor were catching up, reliving her childhood through anecdotes, some funny, some poignant.  Arthur listened in, happy to be on the fringe instead of the center of attention for once.  He focused less on Merlin’s actual words and more on the way they tumbled out of her mouth(as he often did during some of her more long-winded lectures).  Merlin was buoyant with her ever-present, boundless energy.  Her high cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm, her eyes bright and hands animated. 

 

She only paused when men and women filed out from a concealed door, bearing steaming dishes that were set on the table. Arthur identified several types of seafood: salmon, oysters, mussels, shrimp; but also a variety of dishes they didn’t have on the _Dragon_.

 

He waited until their servers left the room(contrary to belief, he _did_ have tact) to voice his question.  “Are they…servants?”

 

Balinor shook his head at once. "They're helping out as a favor to me. Its a democracy here, we're all equals."

 

Arthur frowned. "But you -?"

 

"I was _elected_ overlord," he explained. “I don’t believe in dictatorship.”

 

Merlin cocked her head.  “Is that why you left Camelot?  You don’t agree with monarchy?”

 

“Partly.  The social system among the mariners is ridiculous.  It’s nothing but an excuse for elitism and a mechanism to suppress change.  The higher-ups want to hold on to their power and they can only do that by keeping everyone else entirely in the dark and isolated from any tools that could possibly give them an advantage.  There is no innovation, no chance of reform or social advancement, no incentive to do anything but lie and backstab and work for your own self interests,” Balinor ranted.

 

Arthur was already making tuts of disagreement before the Dragonlord was finished.  “Those who are naturally superior will flourish in society and rise to the top,” he argued.  “Everyone else is simply undeserving and unfit.”

 

“Oh, because you worked really hard to be prince,” Merlin sneered.

 

Balinor put his hand up to stop the retort on the tip of Arthur’s tongue.  “You only know what your father has put in your head, which is understandable.  Open your mind a little.  What I’m going to tell you will most likely go against everything your father has said.”

 

Arthur nodded and gestured for him to continue.

 

“The Dragonlords are a very old family,” Balinor began in his gravelly voice.  “The first king of Camelot, Brutus Dardanian, had a second son, Locrinus, who was the first Dragonlord and served as an advisor to his older brother, King Camber. When Locrinus died, the responsibility was passed to his sons, then their sons, and so forth. 

 

“For the past hundreds of years, kings and Dragonlords have worked together to create peace and prosperity in the Kingdom of Camelot.  But the Dragonlords weren’t just advisors, they were also guardians of a powerful treasure.  Uther found out about it and wanted it for himself.  He sought out the Dragonlords and killed them all when they wouldn’t let him have it.” Balinor’s expression was sorrowful as he gazed into the distance, lost in a memory. 

 

“My father was Uther’s advisor at the time.  He was the first one to die.  Then my brothers, my uncles, my cousins.  And I ran, like a coward, I ran from him.  Uther hunted me across half the world, right to your mother’s front door.”  Balinor smiled fondly at Merlin.  “Then we had you.  And everything was perfect for five years.  Until Uther came and I had to leave again.  I came here, to the rebel camp, and I’ve been here ever since.”

 

*

 

After dinner, with their minds still buzzing with new information, Arthur and Merlin returned to their room.  It was late, they’d talked for far longer than Arthur had realized.  After a long day, he just wanted to sleep.

 

They changed in silence and crawled into bed.  Arthur blew out the candle and tried to sleep, but something was still on his mind.

 

“Merlin?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Can we talk about this morning?”

 

Merlin laughed nervously.  “Was that really this morning?  It felt so long ago.”

 

“Nice try, Merlin.  Now stop stalling.  I know that you know what I’m talking about.”

 

She sighed.  “You’re a _prince_ , Arthur.  And I’m… I’m just a servant.  I shouldn’t even be talking to you.  Do you know how many rules we’re breaking just by sharing the same bed?  Nothing can happen between us and you know that.”

 

“Why not?” Arthur challenged.  “What if I want something to happen?”

 

“Your father –“

 

“My father has nothing to do with this.  And you’re not _just a servant_.  You’re my best friend and you’re a lady now.  So I really don’t see a problem,”  Arthur said defiantly.  A thought suddenly occurred to him.  “Unless I was wrong and you don’t want to -?”

 

Merlin shook her head then realized he couldn’t see her.  “No, no, you were right,” she said hesitantly.  “But what if it doesn’t work out?  I don’t want to lose my closest friend.”

 

Arthur bumped her shoulder.  “What happened to brave, reckless Merlin, huh?  You’re so careful all of a sudden.”

 

“I’m careful with things I care about.  I’ve just never done this before. I don’t want to muck it up,” she admitted quietly.

 

“Well that makes two of us.  We’ll go slow, promise.”

 

“Okay.  I –okay.”  Merlin curled up on her side, leaving ample space between them.

 

“Oh for– . Just come here.”  Arthur flung his arm out and pulled her close to his body.  Merlin obligingly snuggled closer so she fit right up against him.  “Better.”

 

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder.  “Good night husband.”

 

“Night wife.”

 


	13. Kith and Kin

**Chapter 13 – Kith and Kin:**

 

Arthur was still asleep, or at least pretending to be, when Merlin woke up.  Her insatiable curiosity decided it would be fun to explore a bit before the day started.  She hopped into last night’s dress and left Arthur to sleep, or feign it, whatever he was really doing.

 

Merlin bumped into Gwaine in the hallway.  “Good morning, Gwaine!”

 

“Shhhh.  Not so loud,” he hissed, massaging his temples.

 

She took this to mean he was nursing a hangover.  “Sorry,” Merlin whispered.

 

“S’all right.”  He waved off her apology blearily. “What direction are you running off to?”

 

“I just wanted to look around.”

 

“Then I shall walk with you,” the pirate announced.  “No one knows this place like Captain Gwaine.”

 

“Hey Gwaine?”

 

“Add a ‘Captain’ to that, if you please,” Gwaine replied with a cockily.

 

“ _Gwaine_ ,” she said pointedly.  “How exactly do you know my father?”

 

He drew his eyebrows together.  “Your father?”

 

Merlin backtracked.  “Oops, I mean Lord Balinor.”

 

“Balinor’s your father?” Gwaine’s eyebrows threatened to shoot off his face altogether.

 

“Yep. I’m a lady now.”

 

“Weren’t you a lady before?  Your husband’s nobility isn’t he?”

 

“Oh. Yeah.”  Why did it have to be so stupidly hard to remember that she was “married” to the prat?  “But now I’m a Dragon-lady.  It’s different,”

 she amended.

 

Gwaine snorted. 

 

“So how do you know him?” she prompted.

 

His expression softened fractionally.  “Bal’s been good to me.  He took me in after I got kicked off Caerleon’s ship.”

 

“Caerleon?”  Now that she thought about it, she could the detect the posh undertones in Gwaine’s speech that he tried to cover up with pirate slang.  “You’re noble?”

 

“ _Was_ ,” he corrected.

 

“What happened?”

 

“My father died in service defending the ship and my mother died of grief when she heard the news.  Everything in his will was meant to go to her.  Those fu –“ he stopped himself.  “Those _jerks_ running the place wouldn’t give a penny to me.  They even took the goddamned title away.  So I left.”  In his agitation, Gwaine sounded even more educated and proper, losing the arrogant, unlearned edge of his words.

 

Merlin was sympathetic but she wasn’t exactly sure why he was telling her this.

 

“So there I was, spoiled brat with no money and no idea what I was doing.  I got this notion that I should join the rebellion as a pirate.  Balinor was looking for a crew, so I signed right up.  He’s been like a father to me.”

 

“So what do you do now?”

 

“Still a pirate, though not a very good one.  I loot mariner ships for supplies for the people here. But our crews are mostly made up of criminals, not a friendly lot as you could see.”

 

“This wasn’t your first mutiny,” Merlin guessed.

 

Gwaine smiled wryly.  “Not at all –“

 

“ _Merlin_.”

 

She stood at attention immediately.  “Gwaine?  Was that you?”

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

" _Merlin_. Merlin!"

 

She turned in a circle, searching for the source of the voice. They had wandered into a long, deserted hallway. Here, the walls were rough, unlike the smoothly carved slabs that made the rest of the castle. There was a damp chill in the air that was at odds with the smell of smoke and brimstone. Merlin finally spotted the broad door nearly hidden in the recesses of the wall.

 

"Go on then."  Gwaine opened the door for her. “The old man’s calling you.”

 

Merlin peeked inside slowly. It was cavernous and hazy with smoke. The meager torchlight struggled to illuminate the space and the far edges of the room were shrouded in blackness. But the first thing Merlin noticed were the books. Stacked precariously, lumped in large piles, strewn on the floor, and crammed into dips and cracks in the rock walls. They covered every available surface in some sort of haphazard system.

 

"Ah little one, come closer," the raspy voice spoke again.

 

Merlin noticed the man siting behind a desk for the first time.

 

Gwaine patted her shoulder. "I'll wait outside the lair."

 

"Thank you Strength, if you'll close the door after you," the man called.

 

Gwaine popped a short bow and he left.

 

Merlin tentatively moved toward the man. He was old; his scaly skin hung off his thin frame, and his glowing amber eyes held decades of wisdom in their depths.  His gnarled hand clutched a quill poised above a parchment half covered in spidery script.

 

“Young Merlin, I have been awaiting our meeting,” he declared dramatically.

 

Merlin was at a loss.  “Um.  Thanks?  Sorry, who exactly are you again?”

 

“I go by many names,” he told her.  “Most people know me by the Great Dragon.  You, dear, may call me Uncle Kilgharrah.”

 

“Are you really my uncle?”

 

“Indeed.  I am the brother of your father’s grandfather.”

 

Merlin wasn’t sure how she felt being related to the cryptic crazy dragon-man residing in the basement.  “So…how long have you been living down here?”  She mentally slapped herself for being so awkward.

 

“Nearly twenty years,” Kilgharrah replied easily. “Since your father released me from Uther’s dungeon.”

 

“He did _what_? Why were you down there?”

 

He shook his head sadly.  “I forget that you are ignorant of these things.  Come, sit, I shall tell you everything.”

 

Merlin drifted over and perched on a stool.

 

Kilgharrah began his story, “I had the misfortune of being born my father’s youngest son.  I watched as each of my elder brothers received the coveted Dragonlord title, all the while I was too young, always too young.  All I wanted was to grow up so I too could inherit the honor and burden of guarding the sacred treasure.

 

“As a child, I was bright, as most Dragonlord children are, but exceptionally so. More than my brothers, I’m afraid.  And I was also plagued with a burning curiosity. 

 

“Soon after my third oldest brother began his duties as a Dragonlord, I asked him what the treasure looked like.  And he responded that he had never seen it.  I found this strange; he had pledged his life to protecting something he knew nothing about.

 

“It wasn’t very hard, stealing his keys.  That night, I snuck into that secret room under the mountain.  I thought I’d find gold, jewels, weapons, _something_ –but instead, I found books.  Hundreds upon hundreds of books.  In them I read about miraculous things, about _electricity_ and _science_!  History, engineering, religion, medicine --anything you could think of, and there were dozens of books written about it.

 

“I didn’t understand.  Why would we lock away such a treasure?  Surely the world deserves to know such things.  What we could learn, what we could accomplish!  But my brothers understood.  Knowledge was power.  Technology was our own downfall, the cause of the Great Catastrophe.  In the wrong hands, our treasure would easily become a terrible weapon.  It is better, sometimes, to remain ignorant.

 

“It took me a very long time to accept that.  It was King Uther who made me realize. His young wife had had a difficult time birthing the prince and was dreadfully weak.  Uther begged us to find a cure in all of our books on old medicine.  My brothers refused him.  They said it could not be done.  When the queen died, Uther came for us.  He murdered my kin, stole our treasure and captured me.  Then he used the knowledge from our books to build weapons to capture all the other Dragonlord strongholds.  Within months, we had all been erased from memory. 

 

“I thought Uther would do what we had failed to do, educate the people.  But instead, he was selfish.  He kept the knowledge to himself, used it to control the people, to keep himself on top.  After your father returned my freedom to me, I committed myself to leveling the playing field.  I wrote down everything I could remember from our library so that we could arm everyone, and not just the nobility, with the weapon of knowledge.”

 

*

 

Merlin walked back to her rooms with her head feeling too full of everything Kilgharrrah had just told her.  Gwaine seemed to accept her silence.  He was still clutching his own head, lamenting last night’s overindulgence of alcohol.  The pirate left Merlin at her door, mumbling something about going to ask Alice for a tonic.

 

Merlin entered the room and saw Arthur waiting for her.  He opened his mouth, about to deliver a disparaging remark when he caught sight of her overwhelmed expression.  Merlin suddenly found herself enveloped in a comforting hug, surprised, pleased, and wondering when Arthur had finally developed tact.

 

He then ruined it by asking where she’d been all morning.

 

“With Gwaine,” Merlin said shortly, not in the mood to elaborate.

 

Arthur drew away.  “ _What_?”  Immediately followed by, “I don’t like him.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “You don’t like anyone who talks to me.”

 

“That’s right.  Because I am your master and husband and I am the only one you should be talking to”

 

Merlin snorted.  “Yeah right.”

 

“What did you just say?”  He pretended to be angry while hiding a smile.

 

Arthur lifted her up and threw her on the bed.  Merlin squealed and laughed then shrieked when Arthur started tickling her. "Stop it!  Get off me you barbarian!"

 

Arthur shook his head adamantly. "Never! Tell me who your master is!"

 

"Not you!" Merlin rolled off the bed and ran out of the room amid fits of breathless giggling.

 

"Come back here you strumpet!" He threw a goblet after her. Merlin ducked even though it clanged against the wall a good five feet away from her. She stumbled into the main room and stopped dead, the smile slipping off her face.  

 

"Hello Alice," Merlin said in a strangled voice, her cheeks heating up. She tried to fix her hair and self consciously pulled her dress up so it covered her shoulder again.

 

Arthur bounded into the front room a few steps behind Merlin. He nearly crashed into Merlin and had to grab her shoulders to stop himself. "Ah, Alice."

 

Alice glared at him.  From the looks of it, she had witnessed the entire thing. "Sir Knight, you do your wife grievous wrong."

 

"I -what?"

 

"How can you call yourself a knight?  Where is your honor?  Treating a woman like that is despicable," the healer ranted.

 

Merlin stepped forward. "No, Alice, you've got it wrong. Arthur would never –“

 

She shook her head sympathetically. "Hush child. You need not defend him any further. I've seen enough."  Alice turned to Arthur. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating your wife like that."

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes, defiant despite the flush creeping into his cheeks. "I will treat my wife as I see fit," he said coldly. "Why have you intruded on our privacy?"

 

"My lord sent me to check on your wounds," Alice sniffed disdainfully.

 

"Merlin will deal with them," Arthur stated in a clear dismissal.

 

Merlin helped her to the door.

 

"Milady, I promise you, I will rescue you from that brute," Alice whispered fervently.

 

"Thank you for your concern Alice, but that won't be necessary. Arthur is very good to me," Merlin insisted.

 

Alice just shook her head sadly and shut the door.

 

*

 

Merlin slumped in the nearest chair.  Great, another thing to clutter her frazzled mind and jostle for attention.  She could feel a headache coming on and it was barely mid-morning.

 

Arthur was pacing the floor while seething. "How dare she come in here and accuse me of hurting you. I would never!"

 

"I know, Arthur. I know."

 

He stopped and looked at her closely.  “Do you want to talk about what really happened this morning?”

 

Merlin sighed.  “I met my batty great-uncle.  He told me some really deep stuff. I think you should go see him, he knows about your mother.”

 

Arthur studied her and must have found something in the furrow of her brow or the hunch of her shoulders that told him that Merlin going to express any more coherent thoughts for a while.  He decided to go find this man for himself.

 

*

 

Arthur walked through the halls, his borrowed blue cloak drawn closely around his body, the hood pulled low to shield his face from anyone who could recognize him.

 

“Hey you,” someone hissed.

 

The prince turned around.  There was a man in a black clock beckoning at him from a doorway.

 

“In here. Quick,” he called.

 

Arthur found himself getting pulled into a room whose entrance had been hidden behind a worn tapestry. Inside, was a congregation people, all wearing black cloaks made from a rough, burlap like material. Many of them bowed to Arthur when he entered.

 

"Brother Raven," the man from the doorway said.

 

"Yes?"  Arthur ventured. He hoped he hadn't just blown his cover, whatever that was supposed to be.

 

To his relief, the man continued, "Welcome.  I am Brother Beetle, head of the Dragonlord Division."

 

Arthur tried to peek under the other man's hood and was able to catch a flash of heavily scarred skin as Brother Beetle turned his head.

 

"Brother Raven, how is the Cornwall Division?"

 

"It is doing very well. We've had several new Brothers join us," Arthur invented, praying it was the correct answer.

 

Beetle nodded. "Good, good. Now what have you come here to speak about?  Has our mole been discovered?"

 

"No, no," Arthur said quickly. "I've come here to...ask you something."

 

"Then ask away, Brother."

 

"What can you tell me about Queen Ygraine?"  Arthur wasn't sure why that particular question had burst out of his mouth.

 

Beetle seemed taken aback. "I assume this is pertinent to our mission. Regardless, who am I to deny a Brother the knowledge he has the right to seek?"

 

"I assure you, it will only benefit our mission. Indulge me, dear Brother."  Arthur was having far too much fun playing this role.

 

Beetle turned to the crowd. "Sister Sorceress, please come forwards." To Arthur he explained, "Sister Sorceress knows more than I do, ask her what you wish to know."

 

Sorceress approached Arthur and took him by the arm. "Come Brother Raven. We will speak in private."  They left the main room, where the rest of the group was beginning their meeting, and into a spare closet.

 

"Brother Raven, I must say, you sound much different from the last time we met," Sorceress commented, suspicious.

 

"That's because I'm not Raven. Brother Raven was unable to make the journey and sent me in his stead," Arthur lied smoothly.

 

"So who _are_ you, exactly?"

 

Arthur wracked his mind, which had become conveniently blank, for an appropriate name.  "Uh. I'm Brother...Falcon."

 

"Falcon. Like a kestrel. Or a merlin," Sorceress said, unimpressed.

 

"Exactly," Arthur confirmed. "Now what can you tell me about my...my queen?"

 

"Many things. I am a High Priestess of Lost Queen’s Island, otherwise known as the Isle of the Blessed. It is where Queen Ygraine was born and where she rests.  Now what does Brother Raven wish to know?”

 

“Why doesn’t anyone speak of the queen?  How did she die?  Did Uther have something to do with it?  And why is she buried on some island out here?”

 

Sorceress held up her hand to stop him.  “One question at a time.  Uther forbade the people from talking about the Queen, anyone who did was killed.  Ygraine died due to complications after giving birth to the prince.  Yes, Uther pressured her to conceive using old medicine.  And when that backfired he begged his Dragonlord, Nim for help.  Nim was bound by his oaths and could not help so Uther killed him.  And Ygraine is buried here because we intercepted her funeral boat so she could return home like she wanted.”

 

“You sound like you know her,” Arthur remarked.

 

“I did.  She was a priestess here before Uther stole her from the sisterhood and married her.” Sorceress stood up and pushed Arthur out of the closet.  “Now that is enough questions from you.  I’ve told you far more than you need to know.”

 

Arthur sighed and moved back into the main room.  He’d actually gotten more answers than he’d hoped for. 

 

"Be ready. Sister Manticore has informed us that a knight of Camelot is in our midst," Beetle was saying to the mass of black-hooded people.

 

As Arthur moved closer to listen to the meeting, the door opened and a blue-cloaked figure entered.

 

Beetle was looking between Arthur and the new stranger, uncertain.  Arthur didn’t give him a chance to say anything, just ducked out of the room. He ran all the way back to his and Merlin’s guest chambers, diving into doorways and doubling back to make sure he lost his pursuers.

 

Merlin jumped up the instant Arthur walked in.  “Arthur!  Alice was just here and she mentioned some new world order who’s out to get you and…are you all right?”

 

Arthur waved her off.  “I’m fine, and I’ve already heard about it.  I just came back from one of their meetings.”

 

“You just _what_?”  Merlin followed him into the back room where Arthur was hiding the blue cloak.  “What are you doing?  Arthur?”

 

“I’ll tell you in a second.  What did Alice want?”

 

Merlin harrumphed.  “She saw you leave so she came in to offer me protection.  She actually gave me a bottle of hemlock so I could poison you if I wanted.  Then she mentioned some cult she was part of, Custodes Scientiae, the guards of knowledge.  They wear black cloaks and they want to take down Uther and return science to the people.”

 

He nodded seriously. “Sounds about right.”

 

"And you went in to one of their meetings?"

 

"Yep."  Arthur briefly summarized what he had seen and heard.

 

"So you walked into a nest of murderers." Merlin’s voice was low and dangerous. "And what if they had pulled down your hood?  What if someone recognized you? How am I supposed to explain to your father that a bunch of crazy people offed you because you were too stupid to be careful?"

 

Arthur didn’t have a good answer for any of her questions and he was a little scared by her outburst. He cautiously brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders. "But I didn't Mer. I'm still here. I'm fine, see?"

 

"But I was worried about you!  You’re such a –“

 

Arthur didn’t give her a chance to finish her thought.  He surged forward and fit his mouth over Merlin's, kissing her with a single-minded focus. Merlin gave a sigh of contentment and melted into his arms.  There was an indeterminable amount of time where all that existed in her mind was _Arthur_ and _yes_.  Then she pulled back, resting her forehead against his.

 

"This discussion isn't over," Merlin whispered.   And Arthur could only wonder how she was still coherent at this point. Then he decided it didn’t matter and moved in to kiss her again.

 

*

 

Arthur woke up to darkness, disoriented and irritated at himself for disrupting the bliss of sleep.  It was still several hours until dawn and the castle was silent.  Merlin was curled up at his side and he could hear her deep breathing.  Arthur listened to the steady exhalations and wondered distantly why he’d woken in the first place.

 

There was a creak, too loud and too close.  Arthur froze.  He held his breath and clapped a hand over Merlin’s nose and mouth.  The silence was broken by someone else’s breathing.  As Arthur slipped a hand beneath his pillow to fumble for his dagger, fingers suddenly gripped his bicep.  He had to stop himself from making a highly undignified noise.

 

It was only Merlin, protesting being roused from sleep and cut off from her oxygen supply.  Arthur moved his hand down so she could breathe out of her nose while keeping her mouth covered and prayed Merlin had the presence of mind not to bite him.

 

Arthur shifted himself casually and squinted into the darkness, trying to discern whether that shadow was an intruder or just a chair.  It turned out he was looking in the wrong direction.  The rasp of a blade alerted him and he flipped over, instinctively bringing his dagger up to block the attack.  A loud clang rang out as metal met metal.  From there, Arthur had to rely on his hearing to anticipate where and when the next offensive would be.

 

He swung a leg out and caught the intruder in the gut but then had to roll out of the way as a sword was stabbed blindly into the mattress.

 

From the corner came a scratching noise and then a candle flared to life.  Merlin stood defiantly with a candlestick in one hand and a sword held out in the other.  The intruder stood still, blinking in the sudden brightness and Arthur took advantage of the lapse in judgment and ran his knife directly into the man’s heart.  He collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.


	14. Right and Left

**Chapter 14 - Right and Left:**

 

Merlin dropped the sword on the ground and only just remembered to replace the candlestick in its holder.  She rushed over to Arthur, avoiding the corpse bleeding out on the ground.

 

Arthur was still on the bed, tangled up in the bed sheets and breathing hard.  He let the bloody dagger still in his hand fall to the floor, the clatter it made echoing loudly in the still room.

 

Merlin sat down on the bed, trembling and Arthur crawled over to her and held her tightly.  They stayed like that until the sun came up, clutching each other, noses pressed into necks and fingers stroking hair.

 

Their reverie was only broken when Gwaine's voice followed by Balinor's could be heard from the corridor.

 

 _How on earth had they lost track of so much time?_ Merlin gently extracted herself from Arthur's embrace and tried to find her composure as well as a dressing robe.

 

Someone knocked on the door and Gwaine hollered, "Wake up princess!"

 

Arthur got up and stretched his stiff muscles. "Is he talking about me or you?"

 

Merlin shrugged. "Beats me."  She padded to the door and opened it. "Good morning father, Gwaine."

 

The two men greeted her and then greeted Arthur, who'd come up to stand next to his ‘wife’.

 

Merlin yawned widely, the exhaustion catching up with her. "Sorry. I didn't sleep very much last night."

 

Gwaine waggled his eyebrows. "Really. What were you doing?"

 

Merlin blushed furiously when the implication of what he said sunk in. She did her best not to look at her father. "I can't believe you just said that," she muttered, hiding her face in Arthur's shoulder.

 

Arthur laughed, Merlin was so cute when she was embarrassed. "She didn't mean it like that. We were good, I promise."

 

"I wasn't doubting you," Balinor said gruffly.

 

At the same time, Gwaine shouted, "Is that a body?"  He shoved into the room to get a better look. "Bloody hell it is!"

 

Merlin grimaced. "We were just getting to that."

 

Balinor transferred his gaze to his daughter. "What do you mean?"

 

"Um. About maybe an hour ago, this guy came in here and tried to stab Arthur?"  The tremor from before found its way back into Merlin's voice.

 

"Are you all right?"

 

"We're fine," Arthur replied for both of them. "Merlin was just a little traumatized."

 

Merlin glared at him. Great, now her father thought she was a complete ninny.

 

Balinor smiled at her reassuringly. "That is understandable.  But I'll call Alice, I'd still like her to look over both of you."

 

"I'm fine," Merlin protested.  It fell on deaf ears, both Arthur and Balinor ignoring her.

 

"Hey Bal," Gwaine called all of a sudden. He'd been searching their assassin. "It's one of them science crazies."

 

Balinor moved to inspect the man. "How did they know Arthur was staying here?  Besides the two of us, the only one who's seen Arthur is -"

 

"Alice." Arthur said it to answer Balinor's unasked question. Merlin squeaked the name out because the woman in question had just materialized in the open doorway.

 

"Ah, Alice, we were about to come get you,” Balinor greeted pleasantly.  “Will you please inspect this man and tell me what you think?”

 

Alice went to check on the body, Gwaine and Balinor stepping aside for her.  “Well he is dead,” she said flatly, clinically.  “Fatally wounded between the fifth and sixth rib, puncture wound directly in the heart.  The precision of the wound leads me to believe that it was carried out by a practiced hand with past experience in killing.” Alice stepped back.  “If I may inquire, my Lord, what transpired here?”

 

“From what I understand, my daughter was nearly killed last night,” Balinor stated, betraying no emotion, eyes fixed on the older woman.

 

Alice gave a horrified gasp.  “Lady Merlin, are you all right?”

 

“Yes, thank you Alice,” Merlin reassured her.  “It was lucky Arthur heard the man and fought him off.”

 

“Lucky indeed,” Alice murmured unenthusiastically.

 

Arthur pulled Merlin even closer to his side.  “I’ve been trained to kill since birth,” he informed the dubious healer.  It came out sounding vaguely threatening.

 

Merlin nudged the prince.  “Stop antagonizing Alice.”

 

"Alice, do you know anything about this?" Balinor asked calmly.  

 

"You know I am loyal to you and your family. I would never put Merlin in danger," Alice said earnestly.

 

Balinor nodded gravely. "And yet the assassin bears the mark of the Custodes Scientiae."

 

"No!"

 

Gwaine showed her a membership chip, found hidden on a chain around the man’s neck.

 

Alice shook her head vehemently. "No! They couldn't have!" She looked genuinely stricken by this information.

 

Merlin hoped Alice wasn't lying; she'd hate to find out that the kindly old woman had been behind the attack.   Alice was clearly horrified and surprised by the events. Merlin mentioned this thought to Arthur.

 

He turned so they were nose to nose. "We'll see," was all he said, in that irritating tone that meant he knew something she didn't.

 

"I will ask you again."  Balinor told Alice solemnly. "Do you know any thing about this?"

 

"Of course not!"

 

Arthur made a skeptical noise.

 

Alice heard it and glared at him.  “ _Yes_?” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

 

“’Be ready’,” Arthur parroted. “’Sister Manticore has informed us that a knight of Camelot is in our midst.’”  If the others had known him, they would have realized Arthur’s voice was pitched in an uncanny imitation of Brother Beetle.

 

Alice’s expression lurched from outraged to ashen when she was hit with the impact of what Arthur was saying.  “No. Nononono,” she whispered, mostly to herself. She sat down on the blood-stained mattress.

 

Balinor, concerned, sat down next to her, taking her hands in his.  “Alice, what is it?  Tell us.”

 

She looked up, shame and guilt and dismay swimming in her eyes.  “It was my fault,” Alice admitted hoarsely.  “Beetle asked me who was staying in the guest room and I was so angry with Sir Arthur that I told him.  I didn’t know they were going to try anything!  I wouldn’t have told them if I knew what they were planning.  I swear, Balinor, it was not my intention!”

 

Arthur leaned in and whispered in Merlin’s ear, “Told you it was her.”

 

Merlin jammed her elbow into his side, making Arthur squeal. “Quit being so smug.”

 

Gwaine was watching them, amused, while Balinor eyed them with vague disapproval.  “So,” the dragonlord continued, “why were you angry with Arthur?”

 

Some of her former fierceness returned.  “Sir Arthur is a bully,” Alice declared.  “He is rude and arrogant and self-centered –“

 

Merlin muttered quietly, “Check.  Check, check, and check.  She’s described you perfectly.”

 

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirked but he didn’t deign to respond.

 

“ –and no good for your daughter.  Can’t you see he’s been hurting her?”

 

Merlin interrupted Alice’s tirade, frowning.  “Sorry, _what_?  Are you implying that Arthur’s … _abusing_ me?”

 

“You don’t need to tell me dear, I saw the signs from a mile away.”  Alice was looking at her, expecting Merlin to break down in tears and thank her.

 

But Merlin was doing neither and unlikely to start any time soon.  “I keep telling you, you’ve got it wrong.  Arthur has never ever hurt me.”

 

“But I saw –“

 

“We were joking around,” Merlin said firmly.  “It’s not like that.”

 

“I don’t understand –“

 

“Alice.”  Balinor was using his Commander Voice; the same one Arthur liked to employ to win arguments and get in the last word.  “Let it go.  Please go to my office, I’ll speak with you in a minute.  Gwaine, if you could finish your investigation.  When you’re finished with that, please get someone to deal with the body.”  He gave the two of them a few minutes to carry out his orders.  When they left the room, Balinor turned to Arthur and Merlin.

 

“I apologize for the actions of the Custodes Scientiae. I assure you, I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t happen again.  We will continue to look into it and you will be the first to know if we find anything.  Now, I came here this morning for another purpose.”  Balinor reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up letter.

 

Arthur took the paper and immediately recognized his own seal.  He quickly opened it and scanned the page.

 

"The Dragon will be in Orkney in three days hence," Arthur read out loud.  "Should we meet them there?"

 

Merlin shrugged. "Did you find what we came here for?"

 

"Mostly. I want to see the island itself, though."

 

"That can be arranged," Balinor announced. "You're looking for the Lost Queen’s Island?"

 

Arthur nodded in confirmation.

 

"I'll ask Gwaine to take you there on the way to Orkney, there's no use coming all the way back here after that."

 

"It's settled then," Merlin said more than a little regretfully. She wished she could spend more time here with her father.

 

"Perhaps it's for the best," Balinor remarked gently. "It's not safe for you here.  We’ll just have to make your last day here memorable.”

 

*

 

Balinor agreed to let Arthur and Merlin explore the mountain around the castle. He showed them how to whistle for help and which trail would lead them back. They took a blanket and a basket of food and set off.

 

Merlin had thankfully been able to borrow a spare tunic and trousers from one of the young women and was immensely glad that she did.

 

They followed the main path down the mountain. Merlin constantly lost her footing on loose rock, each slip sending a cascade of shale tumbling and clattering.

 

Near the bottom, the path split into three branches. One led straight, presumably to the same little beach where they had been dropped off a few days ago. Of the other two, one led right and the other veered left.

 

Arthur wracked his memory. Balinor hadn't said anything about a fork in the path. He turned to Merlin. "Which way do you want to go?"

 

Merlin peered down the left and right trails in turn, craning her neck and squinting to see between the trees. There was no real difference between them. "Um. Left? No. Right!"

 

They went right.  For the first few minutes they saw nothing but same old forest.  Dappled sunlight filtered in through the vibrant canopy of leaves, bathing the forest with a lively glow.  Frail saplings sprouted in the shelter of their parents’ shady branches and more were forcing their way up through the blanket of decaying leaves.  Evergreens stood proud and firm, sap forming a sticky sheen over their rough bark.  The carcasses of fallen trees lay on the ground in great heaps of tangled limbs.  Here and there winked a pale, smooth stump where humans had plundered for firewood.

 

But gradually, the scenery changed.  As the path sloped downhill, the trees and underbrush grew sparse.  The chatter and rustle of birds and wildlife quieted to an eerie, tense silence.

 

Merlin slowed her walking.  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

 

Arthur brushed past her and kept walking.  “Don’t be such a girl _Mer_ lin.”

 

She sighed and followed him. The path continued to slant downwards right into the valley between their mountain and the next.  Arthur stopped dead when he saw it.

 

All they could see for miles around was muddy swamp and stagnant water.  Rising out of the mire every few feet were thousands of crooked sticks.  It wasn’t until they walked closer that they realized those sticks were trees, bleached white from exposure to the salt.  They were leaf-less, branch-less pillars, brittle husks of wood.  Merlin couldn’t tell if they were alive or not.

 

As she opened her mouth to suggest leaving like right now, Arthur surged forward, curious.  “What do you think happened here?”

 

“I don’t know, but –“

 

“C’mon, let’s check it out!”

 

Arthur jogged down the path, which had somehow transitioned from rocks to dirt without either of them noticing.  It stretched for a few hundred yards before ending in a small decrepit dock.  The wood of the dock was peeling and rotting, planks were missing, and the entire thing was covered in green slime.

 

“Perfect place to have lunch, eh?” Arthur said with an impish smile.

 

Merlin scowled.  “You better hope you were kidding about that or I’m going back and eating in the castle.”

 

Arthur poked around a little more, up until he found the dead, mutated fish cluttering the brackish mud and nearly fell into quicksand.  “All right, fine, let go.”

 

They hiked back to the original fork in the path, and this time, took the left branch.

 

They had been walking for a few minutes now in companionable silence.  Merlin snuck not-really-subtle peeks at Arthur’s profile while he stared stoically ahead and tried not to react.  She reflected on their weird relationship for a moment.  It didn’t feel that much different really.  They were still best friends, still did everything together, still acted mostly the same.  Only now they could touch.  They didn’t have to pass off that brush of shoulders as casual or look away when they caught the other staring a bit too long.  Even now, Merlin slipped her hand into Arthur’s without a thought.  And it didn’t feel awkward at all because it was what they’d been missing this whole time.  It was natural, it was _them_.

 

Merlin moony daydreaming was disrupted by Arthur coming to a halt while she continued forward then jerked backwards.  “What?”

 

“Shush Merlin,” he whispered, motioning with his hands.

 

She tried to interpret the gestures to no avail.  “Sorry, you want me to what?” Not bothering to keep her voice down.

 

“There’s something over there, so shhh,” Arthur explained with exaggerated slowness.  He held a finger to Merlin’s lips to demonstrate quiet. 

 

Arthur dropped their basket of food into Merlin’s arms.  Then he crept soundlessly toward the source of the noise.  He caught sight of a white something, that turned tail and fled when it heard a loud _snap_! behind it.  Sure enough, when Arthur turned around, he found Merlin standing on a broken twig, having followed him off the path.  “ _Merlin_!”

 

“Sorry?”

 

Arthur harrumphed and went to follow the tracks of the animal.  He stalked the cloven hoof-prints and silvery hair through the forest with a single-minded determination while Merlin huffed behind him.  They finally caught up to it in a lovely clearing, edged with wildflowers and sunshine.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Merlin breathed awestruck.  “It’s a unicorn!”

 

“Well actually, it’s more deer-like than horse and –“

 

“Shut up.  It’s beautiful.”

 

Arthur’s fingers were drifting toward his sword.

 

Merlin stilled his hand.  “You can’t!”

 

Arthur frowned.  “But you liked it so much so I thought –“

 

“I like it alive,” she said firmly.

 

He conceded defeat and his hand reluctantly let go of the weapon.

 

The unicorn-thing watched them with serene, soulful eyes.  It was really more like a silvery-white deer, now that Merlin really looked at it, nowhere near the size of a real horse.  What was really remarkable was the strange horn on its delicate head.  It looked like someone had taken an antler and hewn off the sides so it was this single crooked protrusion jutting from the creature’s forehead.  Standing in the sunlight, the unicorn had an ethereal glow, its pure white coat shimmering with what could only be called magic.

 

Merlin ventured closer, reaching a hand out.  The unicorn took one look at her and pranced off into the forest.

 

“Well that was fun,” Arthur muttered dryly.  “But can we eat now?”

 

They wandered around for a little more until they stumbled across a miniature waterfall.  To the happy gurgle of water splashing, the blanket was laid down and the food set out.  Arthur sat down cross-legged next to Merlin and dug in.

 

Merlin had only just bit into her lunch when the ants began to march onto the blanket.  From there it was a full out war of her versus nature.  When it wasn’t the ants, it was the flies, or the mosquitoes, or those freaky little crawly nuisances that she had no name for.

 

After much squirming and two instances where Arthur was forced to get up while Merlin shook out the blanket, they gave up on the cute romantic-ish picnic all together and decided to head back.


	15. Cat and Mouse

**Chapter 15 – Cat and Mouse:**

 

The plan had been to go right back to the castle. Of course, they had conveniently forgotten the fact that they had wandered into the dense forest to chase a unicorn and long lost sight of the path.

 

"What do we do now?"  Merlin was standing on a rock in the hopes that she could avoid nature entirely. It only made more gnats gather around her head.

 

Arthur was squinting at the sky. "We're not lost. We just have to use the sun."

 

Merlin snorted. "It's noon, Arthur. The sun's not going to tell you anything."

 

"Then we'll wait."

 

"Oh hell no. We're getting out of here before I get eaten alive. Can't you like reverse track our footsteps?"

 

"That's it!"

 

A few minutes later they were back at the same rock again and Arthur was scratching his head, confused.

 

"Ugh," Merlin grumbled. "I should have known. You lived on a boat your whole life, of course you have no real life skills."

 

"Hey!"

 

"Right then. You climb a tree and tell me what you see," Merlin instructed.

 

Arthur frowned. "Who died and made you queen?"

 

"I’m the smart one, so I’m in charge.  Now up you get."

 

Arthur found a sturdy tallish tree and began swinging himself onto the lower branches. For someone who was only on land once a month, he was surprisingly adept at clambering his way up the tree.

 

"Oh wow. This is great!" He called down.

 

"Do you see the path?"

 

"No, but I do see the castle. It's not too far from here."  Arthur shifted his position. "Hey look I can see the sea from here. Wait that looks a lot like...no it can't be...but it looks just like...but it is...shit!" He scrambled down as quick as possible, jumping the last few feet. "We have to go. Now."

 

Merlin was dragged several feet before she even registered they were in motion. "What did you see? What happened?"

 

Arthur kept his hand clamped like a vise on Merlin's wrist, pulling her stumbling after him. "The _Queen Ygraine_. It's here," he explained tersely.

 

"You're sure?"

 

"Definitely. I'd know it anywhere."

 

Arthur could predict without looking back the exact expression that would be on Merlin's face. It was a balance struck between calculating and determined and mild irritation at the nerve of these people to mess with her.

 

Suddenly it was her pulling him as she picked up the pace. They sprinted through the forest, ducking branches, dodging trees, and leaping over obstacles. The castle soon came into sight to their relief.

 

When they burst into the courtyard, they looked around frantically for a familiar face. Merlin pounced on the seneschal she remembered from their first day. "I need to see Balinor. Immediately!"

 

The man studied her skeptically, eyeing her man's clothing and messy hair.

 

"Lady Merlin demands to see her father," Arthur asserted, turning on his regal stare to look twice as  intimidating.

 

Swayed by the title and Arthur's aggressive bearing, the seneschal obliged.

 

They burst in on Balinor's meeting with the council.

 

"King Uther is on his way!"

 

Balinor stood up, growing pale. "How can you be certain?"

 

"Arthur saw the ship with his own eyes," Merlin said impatiently. "What are you waiting for?"

 

One of the council members remarked snidely, "And you expect us to take the word of a sworn enemy and a girl?"

 

"Please," Merlin begged. "You're all in danger. Think of all the women and children here."

 

The toad like man opened his wide mouth to continue but Balinor stopped him. "I believe them," he said simply. "You will help prepare the castle. Go rally the men and bring the women, children, and elderly to our underground shelter.  Make haste!"

 

There was the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling feet as the council members left the room.

 

"As for you," the dragonlord said to Arthur and Merlin, "you will go with Gwaine. He'll take you back to Orkney and hopefully divert our crisis for now."

 

Merlin's face fell. "Is this good bye?"

 

"I'm afraid it is."

 

She flung herself into her father's arms.  "I miss you already. I wish we could stay and help."

 

Balinor shook his head. "You must stay safe. I'll write to you. And I hope you'll visit again when this is all over."

 

"Of course I will. And Arthur too?"

 

"Arthur will always be welcome here. If Gwaine plays it right, no lives will be lost today, and that is all thanks to you two."

 

"Good bye, father."

 

"Farewell, Merlin. Farewell, Arthur."

 

The two men shook hands and Merlin hugged Balinor one last time. Then they turned and ran for the docks.

 

*

 

Gwaine was already onboard the ship when they got there. He was yelling orders to the sailors while checking the ropes and lines with an experienced eye. "Arthur and Merlin, board now. Harper get the gangplank when they're secure. Get ready to cast off men!"

 

Arthur and Merlin ran up the gangplank and onto the huge wooden ship. It was big enough to hold all of the inhabitants of the sanctuary and then some, though still too small to rival the _Queen Ygraine_. The shape deviated from usual Mariner ships; it was longer and narrower, the front sharper, and the sails rounder. It was clearly intended for speed.

 

Once onboard, they stood unsure at the center of a maelstrom of movement. Men ran everywhere, preparing the ship, checking and re-checking everything.

 

Gwaine shouted from the helm, “Arthur and Merlin, below decks, stay out of sight until instructed!  Jay and Ross, steady the sails!  Harrison, cast away all lines!”

 

Arthur and Merlin obediently lowered themselves into the hatch and climbed down to the hold where they were to bide their time for the next few hours.

 

*

 

About an hour or two later when the shift changed, Gwaine went down to join them.

 

“What’s going on up there?” Merlin asked curiously.  All they could hear from below were thumps and occasional shouting.

 

“We’re playing cat and mouse with the _Queen Ygraine_.  She thinks we’ve got Balinor and most of the sanctuary onboard so they’re giving chase.  The goal is to lure them away from the castle and then we’ll give them the slip,” Gwaine explained.

 

“But won’t they eventually go back to the castle?” Arthur wondered.

 

Gwaine shrugged.  “They might.  Bal’s there.  He’ll trap them in the Perilous Lands if they return.”

 

“The Perilous Lands?” Merlin queried.

 

“It’s like a dead forest with toxic waste and quicksand,” Gwaine described.  “Not very fun.”

 

Both of them _ahh_ -ed in enlightenment. Merlin could personally attest to the un-fun-ness of the eerie swamp.

 

They heard shouting from above.

 

“Do you need to be up there?” Merlin asked.

 

Gwaine shrugged.  “Not really.  These aren’t the same type of sailor you saw on the way here.  We’ve got only the finest men on this boat.”

 

“Yourself included?” Arthur commented wryly.

 

“Of course!  They didn’t make me captain for nothing,” he boasted.

 

"Modest as usual," Merlin muttered.

 

At that moment they heard the ear-splitting grunt of a cannon ball ejected from its carriage. No one moved, ears pricked for a wet splash or the sound of splintering wood. It landed in the water a good distance away judging from the weak _plonk!_ that could be heard.

 

Gwaine was already in motion when someone screamed from above, "All hands on deck!"

 

Arthur stood as well. "I can help."

 

"I -"

 

"Me too," Merlin chimed in.

 

"No." Gwaine and Arthur vetoed the notion immediately.

 

"Why the hell not? You can't possibly expect me to just sit here while stuff's going on up there. And I know my way better around a ship than this lug," she argued.

 

Gwaine was already shaking his head. "Bal would actually destroy me."

 

"You're scared of my father but not Arthur's?" Merlin asked incredulously.

 

"Oh I am. That's why Arthur's not going either. "

 

Before Arthur could even respond with a 'wow thanks Merlin' in the most sarcastic tone he could muster, Gwaine was whisking himself out of the room and deftly locking the door after him.

 

Arthur got up and banged on the door, shouting and cursing.  Merlin estimated it would take Gwaine about half a minute to ascend the ladder and reach the top deck. "And three, two, one, clear."

 

Arthur stopped making noise and was already reaching up and plucking a hairpin that had miraculously stayed in Merlin's hair. He took it, bent it to his liking and began picking the lock.

 

They had run into a petty thief once while docking at shore. Arthur hadn't let the man go until he taught him how to pick a lock. Merlin had agreed that teaching Arthur anything was punishment enough. But the skill was awfully handy at times like these so she couldn't complain.

 

The lock clicked open after a few minutes of fiddling and they were out. Merlin tucked her hair up into a cap she found and jammed another one onto Arthur's head to mask his recognizable blonde locks. They could almost pass as sailors. Maybe.

 

Then the pair raced to the top deck from which they could hear shouts and brisk footfalls. They arrived at a scene of organized chaos.

 

Gwaine was back at the helm, steering wheel in hand, barking order after order at the men. Everyone down to the last kitchen boy was on deck, hauling ropes, running about, or manning a cannon.

 

A young boy, no more than seven years old, hung out of the crow's nest, spyglass in hand. Merlin watched in amazement as he shimmied up and down the rigging like a little monkey.

 

Arthur was immediately dragged into service by a burly sailor. He joined the line of men heaving on a long rope.

 

Meanwhile Merlin was waylaid by another passing crew member and pulled over to help with the cannons. She lit them, touching the long pole with the flint to the fuse.  Then she leapt back, clapping her hands over her ears as the cannon went off.

 

Between blasts, Merlin learned that the cannon balls they were using were lightweight, made of cheap materials. The purpose of this exercise wasn't to hit the _Queen Ygraine_ , but to give the illusion of attempting to do so.

 

Thus far the bait had been taken and the _Queen Ygraine_ had successfully been steered away from the sanctuary.

 

"So as long as she stays on our tail," Alator explained to her, "We're all safe."  He stepped away from the loaded cannon.

 

"And if she doesn't?"

 

"We're all dead," Alator summed up.

 

"Oh."

 

*

 

By nightfall the volley of cannon fire ceased and everyone visibly relaxed when they saw the _Queen Ygraine'_ s lights still following them.

 

"Merlin!  Dammit Merlin!  Where the hell are you?"

 

Merlin moved toward the shouting, wiping the evidence of her sooty hands on her pants. "Gwaine! I'm here."

 

The pirate hurtled into her, shaking her shoulders fiercely. "Where were you?" He demanded.  "Where have you been?  I've been looking all over for you!"

 

"I've been right here -"

 

"And where did I ask you to stay?"

 

"...not here." Merlin admitted, shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Gwaine, I -"

 

Gwaine sighed. "Go to the brig, I can't lash you for disobeying orders."

 

Merlin stiffened  she turned a pleading face to Gwaine.

 

He shook his head. The stress of the day was weighing heavily on his face.

 

Chastised, Merlin went.

 

*

 

The brig was really a small wooden room, guarded with a steel door. But it had a high window that let in fresh air and it was thankfully dry.

 

Merlin sat down on the wide wooden shelf that hung from the ceiling, wrapping her arms around her knees.

 

A few moments later, Arthur was pushed into the room to join her. He sat down next to her on the shelf and she curled into his side. "I'm sorry," he said.

 

Arthur's speech caused rumbling vibrations which Merlin could hear and feel from her cheek pressed to his chest. She was distracted for a moment. "For what?"

 

"I know you don't like it in here."

 

"S'not your fault," she mumbled.

 

Arthur's hand came up to twirl in Merlin's hair. "It's not so bad in here, is it?"

 

"No it's not," she agreed. "Gwaine wouldn't put us in here if it was."

 

Arthur hummed. "I hate to say this, but you chose a decent man to run into."

 

"I'll have you know, I am an excellent judge of character," Merlin sniffed.

 

“Hmm,” Arthur replied noncommittally.

 

Merlin was about to doze off when the door opened with the jangle of metal.  A young sailor stood in the doorway, blinking at them, taken aback by Merlin’s sudden femininity and their intimacy.  “Er.  The Captain says you’re to be let out now.”

 

“Really?  Already?”

 

Arthur shot her an incredulous look.  “You’re welcome to stay in here longer if you like.”

 

“Nononono, I’ve had quite enough.”  Merlin scrambled over him and out the door in an instant.

 

Arthur laughed after her while the sailor stared, utterly perplexed by their dynamic.

 

*

 

After dinner, Merlin stood on the top deck, leaning on a railing and staring out at sea.  She was lost in thought until Gwaine put his jacket over her shoulders.  She hadn’t even noticed she was shivering.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” he said gruffly.

 

They stood in companionable silence for a few seconds.

 

Then Gwaine asked, “Are you angry with me?”

 

Merlin turned to look at his stoic profile curiously.  “No.  Why would I be?”

 

“The way you reacted earlier, I thought…” he trailed off, uncertain.

 

It was Merlin’s turn to stare with utmost concentration at the crashing waves.  “Uther put me in the real brig once,” she explained softly, emotionlessly.  “I spent a night in there.”

 

“ _No_ ,” he gasped.  “Why?”

 

“I got in a fight with a crazy girl,” she explained ruefully.

 

Gwaine was fighting a grin. “I hope you got her good.”

 

“Better than she got me at least.”

 

“That’s my girl,” he crowed with pride.

 

Merlin couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

 

Then he grew serious again, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out again.  “I am sorry though.  I didn’t know.”

 

“Gwaine, I’m not upset with you.  You’re the Captain, you need order, I get it.  And we were in there for ten minutes at most, that’s nothing.”

 

He shook his head.  “You’re too forgiving for your own good.  And it’s not about order.  I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt on my watch, and Bal would never forgive me either.  You’re practically my sister, I can’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“Hold on, how are we related again?”

 

“Bal was planning on adopting me so I’d officially be his heir.”

 

“ _Was_? Oh –“ Merlin’s eyes widened.  “Is it because I showed up?”

 

“Merlin, it’s fine –“

 

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s fine mister, because it is not at all fine.  Let’s get this straight.  I. Don’t. Want. It.  You’re an amazing leader, Gwaine, and the people want you, not me.  You know them and they love you.  They’re never going to completely trust me.  And I’m not leaving Arthur’s side.  So you’re going to take the damn position and you’re going to be great at it.” She emphasized the point by jabbing her finger into his chest.  “Got it?”

 

Gwaine snapped to attention and saluted her.  “Yes, sir.”

 

Arthur appeared from behind them.  He’d heard Merlin’s familiar Bossy-Ranting-Voice and felt obligated to save the poor sod that was on the receiving end of her fervor.  He was surprised to see it was Gwaine, their esteemed Captain, that Merlin was ordering about.  “Terrorizing the locals again, Merlin?” Arthur teased.

 

She gave him a narrow-eyed glower.

 

Gwaine slapped Arthur on the back.  “Mate, your woman is scary.  I see why you like her so much.”

 

Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist and smacked a loud wet kiss on her cheekbone.  “I like her very much.”

 

“Yeah and she’s standing right here,” Merlin grumbled, but she didn’t pull away.

 

“You’re tired so you’re being grumpy.  We’re going to sleep now.” Arthur ordered, but more gentle than condescending.

 

“Yeah, yeah.  You go on, I just want to ask Gwaine something real quick.”  Merlin pushed Arthur toward the lower deck where their room was.

 

Gwaine watched her expectantly.  “What’s up Merlin?”

 

“I was just thinking.  You said you were worried about me, but why did you throw Arthur in there too?”

 

 _So you wouldn’t be alone_. “Because he’s a posh git,” Gwaine said easily.

 

“Hey! I heard that!” Arthur shouted.

 

Merlin gave Gwaine a soft, fond smile, not fooled for a moment.  “Thanks, Gwaine.  You’re a good guy.”

 

“Come on, Merlin! Stop waxing lyrical about the stupid man,” Arthur called again impatiently.

 

Gwaine patted her shoulder.  “Good night, Merlin.”

 

“Good night, Captain.”

 

 

 

 


	16. Farewell and Welcome

**Chapter 16 – Farewell and Welcome:**

 

Arthur and, by extension, Merlin were shaken awake at some time in the morning that was meant solely for sleeping. It was like desecration to be awake this early—or this late, depending on how you saw it. They stumbled out of their shared hammock and blearily followed Gwaine outside.

 

It was light out, lighter at least than it had been below decks.  The moon had already set, but the bruise-purple sky was still speckled with fading stars.  All was still and silent, bar the ceaseless ambience of rushing waves.

 

Gwaine pointed at the shadowy landmass they were sailing past. "Queen Ygraine's Island."

 

Arthur was suddenly wide awake.  He leaned over the railing, as if the proximity to his mother's grave would ease the acute loss he'd felt his entire life. Merlin tangled her fingers in the back of his shirt, fearing he'd fall into the sea and chase after the siren's call if she didn't hold on.

 

Arthur's eyes didn't stray from the serene little isle until long after it had blurred into the horizon. And it hurt something awful to come so close and watch it slip away. He wondered if his father felt the same way, or if he even knew his beloved was buried there at all. Arthur decided it was a cruel thing, if his father was ignorant of the significance of that small tract of land. If one day, it were ever safe to bring Uther back here, he vowed he would. Because no matter what he thought of his father, Uther deserved to have that closure. Arthur knew he would want that consideration if he were in the same situation. If Merlin died... Hell, even if Morgana died, he'd want to be able to visit and pay his respects.

 

As if sensing the darker turn of his thoughts, Merlin wrapped a delicate hand around Arthur's wrist and squeezed. "We'll come back one day. I promise."

 

Arthur nodded and smiled faintly.

 

Merlin yawned. "C'mon now, back to bed. There's more sleeping to be done."

 

They returned below decks and curled up around each other in a hammock. Though there had been more than enough for them to be separate, it was already achingly familiar and comfortable to sleep entwined and wake up together. It did take some maneuvering, however, to get settled without dumping the other on the ground. So it was with Merlin sprawled on top and Arthur clasping her close, they finally fell back asleep.

 

///

 

They passed through the San Francisco Strait some time later that morning, thus Orkney would be in sight by noon.

 

Hours after the sun had risen, Arthur, Merlin, and Gwaine sat alone in the dining room, studying the whimsical map that Merlin had saved from their last ship. Though it was more like Gwaine was reading it while the other two stared at it in an attempt to make sense of the curious runes and symbols.

 

"What exactly are we looking at again?" Arthur finally asked out loud.

 

"A map," Gwaine responded shortly.

 

Arthur scowled fiercely at the map as if that would enlighten him. "But that's not what the coast looks like. Right?" He glanced at Merlin for back up.

 

She gave him a small nod.

 

Gwaine didn't look up from his intense perusal of said map. "No, but it's what California used to look like. Now shush my confused little princeling. Captain Gwaine is trying to think."

 

Arthur was ready to throw a gauntlet on the ground and challenge Gwaine to a duel after that comment. Merlin supposed he had to regain his honor and avenge his wounded manliness or some other ridiculousness. She had to physically restrain him and though he could have easily shaken her off,  he didn't, so she counted it as a win.

 

Arthur, still needing to reassert his prowess, tried again. "I've got a plan," he announced, just this side of belligerent. "As you go around the inlet, there's that blind spot where the bluffs are. There, you drop me and M off in a rowboat. We'll make for shore and leave the boat somewhere you can find later. Meanwhile you make yourself scarce so when the _Ygraine_ rounds the inlet, we'll all have disappeared."

 

Gwaine was nodding thoughtfully. "That way we won't need to stop at shore and risk them catching up.  I'll talk to the sailors about timing it. You two get ready to disembark."

 

Arthur was satisfied from the smug expression on his face. He towed Merlin out of the room, back in good spirits.

 

///

 

Meager possessions packed and row boat prepared, Arthur and Merlin stood on the deck with a sense of déjà vu, waiting to say their goodbyes.

 

Arthur solemnly shook hands while Merlin threw herself into her sort-of-foster-brother's arms without abandon.

 

"I'll miss you so much, Gwaine."  Merlin started tearing up. She hated goodbyes.

 

"Aw don't cry, Merlin. You'll see me again, trust me. I'll write to you. And you can invite me to your wedding, name one of your kids after me.  Don't you worry love, I'm one hard bugger to get rid of."

 

She managed a watery smile. "Promise to write?"

 

"Aye, miss. Captain's word."  Gwaine squeezed her hard one last time.  “I’ll see you around then, Merlin.”

 

She left a final peck on his cheek before following Arthur to the row boat.

 

Right before they were lowered, Gwaine passed a foot-long tube into Arthur's hand. The prince accepted it without a word. Before Merlin could ask about it, they were being deposited in the water with a jerky splash and immediately waves set upon pummeling their little boat. Arthur picked up both oars and began rowing furiously, and didn't his arms look nice flexing like that.

 

Meanwhile, Merlin perched primly at the bow waving like a madwoman at the sailors above. Arthur glanced over his shoulder at her and hooted with laughter.

 

"What?" Merlin snapped.

 

The moron didn't stop chortling. "Remind me to teach you how to do a courtly wave. You look like you're hailing a ship or something."

 

Merlin sniffed in disdain—at least that was _one_ thing she'd perfected from being at court—and informed him loftily, "Shut up."

 

///

 

They reached the shore quickly, though more as a result of the waves' persistence than any navigating on Arthur's part. The row boat was dragged to the natural cove that Gwaine had pointed out and concealed with branches. From there it would only be a short walk into Orkney.

 

Before Merlin could set foot out of the cave, Arthur was crowding into her space and pushing her against the rock wall. He surprised her even further by capturing her lips in a frantic kiss.  He snogged her with a desperate intensity that she didn't understand, and sucked bruises into her neck.  Merlin responded just as eagerly (because who wouldn't?), locking her arms behind Arthur's neck and holding him close. She was breathless when Arthur finally pulled away, breath stuttering in ragged pants. Arthur looked equally wrecked, hair mussed—did Merlin do that?—and mouth red and slick.

 

He cupped her jaw and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. "When we return to _The Dragon_ , we won't be able to do this as often," he said regretfully.

 

Merlin was just thrilled that they were continuing this dalliance. "Yeah," she whispered in a husky voice that did not sound like her own.  "Yeah. So we better make this count, hm?"

 

Arthur happily agreed.

 

///

 

They’d only just boarded _The Dragon_ when Sir Leon ran into them.

 

“Prince Arthur, thank goodness you’re back.”

 

Arthur frowned.  “Leon, what’s wrong?”

 

Leon just shook his head.  “You best come with me, Sire.”

 

“Arthur, should I—“ Merlin asked, uncertain.  She usually didn’t dabble in executive business.

 

“Stay, please.  In case I need you.”

 

She nodded and trailed a step behind him, dreading the long meeting they were certain to be mired in.  From the moment of their arrival in the council room, Arthur was bombarded with a deluge of problems, each clamoring for his attention.  There was an extrapolated food shortage to prepare for, extensive repairs from the same storm that had battered _Excalibur_ , a debilitating flu that was being passed around the ship, supplies missing, numbers that didn’t add up.  Arthur spent nearly two hours sorting out what he could.

 

Eventually Arthur had Merlin retrieve his documents from his room to cross-reference the figures and calculations.  She returned empty handed.

 

“What do you mean it’s not there?” Arthur roared at her.

 

Merlin only narrowed her eyes, far too used to bearing the brunt of the prince’s temper.  She pulled him a short distance away, out of earshot of those meddling old men.  “Don’t you get short with me, Arthur Pendragon.  It’s physically not there.  I looked.”

 

“Then where is it?” he hissed dangerously.

 

“I don’t know, Arthur,” she replied steadily, though her words were edged with cold steel.  “You left it on your desk.  I looked on your desk and in your drawers and on the floor. I looked everywhere but it’s not there.  I don’t know where your papers are.”

 

“So you lost them,” he accused.

 

“Arthur, when have I ever lost your documents?  That’s right, never.  I know how important they are.”

 

Arthur sighed.  “We’ll look later,” he conceded in a calmer voice.  He knew he shouldn’t take it out on Merlin.  She gracefully accepted the unspoken gesture as an apology.

 

The prince turned back to the council.  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid this issue will not be resolved tonight. Council adjourned.”

 

The men grumbled but were relieved at the same time to leave the stuffy room.

 

Agravaine approached Arthur as the meeting dissolved.  “ _Nephew_ ,” he intoned sternly. “You realize none of this would have occurred had you not left on your joyride.”

 

“I’m not sure that is true, Uncle,” Arthur replied stiffly, and with as much patience he could muster at this point.  “You give me too much credit.  I’ll find my papers and we can resolve all this tomorrow.”

 

He made an unconvinced noise.  “Yes indeed.  Unless—perhaps your girl has something to do with the missing papers,” Agravaine suggested slyly.

 

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who was by the door waiting for him.  And though he may have insinuated the exact same thing not moments earlier, Arthur growled at his uncle, “Leave her out of this.  She has nothing to do with any of it.”

 

“But how can you be sure?” Agravaine pressed.

 

Arthur was not in the mood to deal with this.  “I trust her more than my whole council combined—“ Agravaine bridled at this comment, _he_ was a part of said council.  “—she has been a huge asset to this ship and has proved her loyalty many times over.  That is the end of this, I refuse to hear another word on the subject,” he said firmly, brushing past his uncle.

 

Merlin was chewing on her lower lip worriedly as Arthur reached her.  “I am sorry about the papers.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have blamed you,” he admitted in a rare show of contriteness.

 

“No, you shouldn’t have.  But it’s okay Arthur, you’re under a lot of pressure.”  She placed her hands on his shoulder blades and massaged the tense muscles there.  “Are we done for today?”

 

Arthur shot her a grateful smile then scowled again.  “No, there’s that feast tonight, remember?”

 

“ _Ugh_.”

 

///

 

They ate a late lunch in Arthur’s room, which gave the prince the perfect opportunity to rant at Merlin.

 

“—And did you hear what he said?  ‘ _We wasted so much time at Orkney,_ ’” he mimicked in an awful imitation of the man’s voice.  “And okay, maybe Orkney does suck at being a useful port and maybe they had no supplies or repair parts to give us.  But guess what, we also picked up me and you at the port. And I’m, I don’t know, _oh just a little bit important_ to running this ship?”

 

“Yes, Arthur, it was very rude and out of line for him to say that,” Merlin said dutifully.  “Now eat your food.  We won’t be getting any more land meat for a while.”

 

Arthur sat down and took a bite, then jumped up again, too agitated to sit still.  “The worst is what my uncle said.  He implied we were just out faffing about!  I mean, we almost drowned and we were nearly shipwrecked and lost at sea!  Then we were captured and your father wanted to kill me, then the science cult wanted to kill us, then _my_ father tried to kill us.  And along the way we repaired relations with the Dragonlords and saved a whole island full of refugees. I definitely feel unappreciated.”

 

“Hmm.  It’s annoying isn’t it.”

 

Arthur stopped mid-pace.  “Sorry, but what exactly are you implying?”

 

“Nothing.  Nothing at all,” she replied blithely.

 

He stalked up to her and Merlin had to crane her neck to keep him in sight.  Arthur pressed a sneaky-quick kiss to her unsuspecting mouth and retreated before she could chase after him.  “ _Thank you_.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“See?  And you call me ungrateful.  I’m full of gratefulness.”

 

“Just overflowing with it,” Merlin muttered dryly.

 

“Shut it, _Me_ rlin.  If all you’re going to do is make fun of me and steal my food, then you can leave,” Arthur said crossly.

 

Merlin shrugged.  “Okay.  I think I have copies of your documents in my room.  I’ll see you later.”  She blew a kiss and let herself out.

 

On the way back to her own rooms, Merlin found Morgana leaving her cabin with Gwen.  The two girls greeted her happily, though Morgana’s eyes flitted between Merlin’s face and her neck, an aborted smile on her face.

 

Merlin slapped her hand over the offending area.  “What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

The king’s ward dragged Merlin inside her room to one of the ornamental mirrors paneling the walls.

 

Merlin removed her hand and studied herself.  There were red love bites scattered down the column of her neck and one big purple hickey front and center.

 

At the expression on her face, Morgana burst out laughing while Gwen tried her hardest to hide her smile.

 

Merlin pouted and whined, “Stop it, Morgana!  It’s not _my_ fault your brother thinks he’s a vampire.”

 

“My _brother_?  _Arthur_?”

 

Merlin flushed right to her ears.  “Maybe.”

 

Morgana shook her head, pityingly. “Oh, Merlin.  It’s about time, though.  I was wondering when you two would get it together.”

 

“So, um, could you help me cover it up before dinner?”

 

Morgana let an out of character girlish giggle escape from her lips when she looked at the marks again.  It was Gwen who took mercy and went to root through Morgana’s horde of make-up.  Morgana had enough skin tones in her palette to be any ethnicity on earth with a few left over to be various species of extraterrestrial alien.  Therefore, it wasn’t too difficult to find a shade to match and dab a generous amount of it onto Merlin’s neck.

 

“Thanks, Gwen,” Merlin said, moving towards the door.  “You’re wonderful.”

 

Morgana swatted her on the bottom as she passed.  “Look at our Merlin, picking up all the boys.  She’s growing into a first-rate floozy, Gwennie. I’m so proud.”

 

Gwen snorted.

 

Merlin slammed the door shut in retaliation.

 

///

 

In honor of Arthur’s—but not Merlin’s—return, there would be a feast that night. Feasts were typically shorter than banquets but longer than a dinner and, unlike balls, lacked a themed dress code. But that just meant the fashion was freeform and everyone would try (if possible) even harder to out-do each other.

 

Merlin wore a simple scoop neck, cap sleeved, floor length gown in Pendragon red because she liked the color and absolutely not because Arthur had once mentioned he'd liked the color on her.

 

When she entered the prince's room, he bore no semblance of even attempting to get dressed. Arthur wore his knee-length, brown leather hunting coat with no shirt and the leggings he sometimes wore to sleep.

 

He whipped around when the door collided with the doorframe, but un-tensed when he saw it was Merlin. "Oh. It's just you." Arthur resumed his pillaging of his closet. "You look nice."

 

Well actually, Merlin looked more than nice; she'd applied red lipstick to match her dress, which made her full lips appear even more appealing. The gown itself was lovely too, if a bit modest. Though that was due to the limitations put on commoners to make sure they didn't outshine the noblewomen. Etiquette said dresses worn by non-nobles couldn't bare the shoulders, or show too much cleavage, or reveal too much leg, or display the midriff, etc. But frankly, Merlin did look better than most of the other girls, though maybe Arthur was a little biased. At least her dresses fit like a glove, and not like she'd squeezed into a sausage casing. It was repulsive how far people would go for a bit of attention. Women were completely objectified and dressed like they belonged at a brothel and not a formal event. They were paraded like pieces of meat, brood mares if Arthur was the prize stud. He hated it. He hated court, he hated the nobles, he hated the society he lived and participated.

 

Merlin slapped his face. "Arthur!"  She sounded like she'd been calling his name for some time.  "As happy as I am that you're finally engaging your brain, you really need to get dressed. Save the existentialism for later."

 

Arthur shed the coat and evaluated his closet. He had no idea what to wear. He was the guest of honor and people would be looking at him more than usual, he had to look sharp.

 

Beside him, Merlin sighed and with a _'must I do everything?_ ', delved into his colossal clothing holder. She reappeared with a navy three-piece suit and a crisp white shirt. Then Merlin wrestled the outfit onto his body, because although Arthur knew how to dress himself, it was far more fun like this; with Merlin standing so close to him, brows pinched in concentration as she tucked in his shirttails and righted his collar with deft hands.

 

Arthur's eyes lingered on the fancy cravat someone had gifted him, then on the bow-tie and cummerbund set, but ended up selecting a simple red silk tie to match Merlin.  She knotted it in a quick double Windsor then gave his lapels a cursory pat. "Perfect," she pronounced him. Though whether she was referring to her handiwork or him, Arthur wasn't sure.  He hoped it was a combination of both.

 

Arthur let Merlin dust his face with powder and style his hair with the cold viscous gel. This too he could have easily done himself, but he let her have her moment. Merlin fussed a little more, picking off imaginary lint and arranging his bangs just so, until Arthur got sick of it and prodded her away. "You insult me, Merlin. I was born perfect. Whatever you're trying to do is only detracting from my natural attractiveness, so I suggest you stop it."

 

"I was only trying to protect everyone's eyes," Merlin responded innocently. "I was afraid they wouldn't be able to handle your sheer beauty combined with your impeccable sense of style. And," she added a disparaging twist of her mouth, "I'm afraid I'll pale in comparison standing next to you."

 

Arthur was already shaking his head. "You're always stunning, Merlin. You’re gorgeous and—“

 

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments, Arthur—“

 

“Let me finish!  You're gorgeous and beautiful and pulchritudinous. And if I could write poetry about the way you look right now, I would."

 

Merlin was smiling that soft, fond smile reserved just for moments like these, when Arthur pulled his head far enough out of his own ass to say something nice. And hell, it was making these warm fuzzy feelings well up in his chest, and he was a man dammit! and men don't do emotions like these. Arthur compromised by kissing Merlin's cheek, because that red lipstick was nothing if not intimidating.

 

She smiled again, quick and blinding. Then, finally ready, they made their way to the feast.

 

Gathered in the dining room already, was a motley of men and women, each garbed more outrageously than the next. Arthur's eyes hurt just glancing at the collection of lurid fabric. And the reoccurrence of a certain revolting shade—Merlin distastefully called it highlighter yellow—was unpleasantly high. It was supposedly the "in" color of the week. Arthur wouldn't be caught dead in it, not to mention it would clash horribly with his hair.

 

As usual, the moment Arthur was spotted, the nobles fell upon him like jackals. He lost Merlin among the insincere kiss-ups, who were welcoming him back with a zealous fervor.

 

He found her again a while later, standing with several other girls. Arthur always found it curious, the paradox that was Merlin Emrys. She should, by his logic, have no friends at all; she was no courtier, so the nobles wouldn't accept her; yet she wasn't exactly a servant either and had a status elevated far above any other commoner, so the help would shun her as well. Despite being in a category of her own, Merlin was unbelievably popular. She was friendly with nearly all the serving staff, many of Arthur's younger knights, and a good number of nobility, ranging from the lesser known to the high ranking like his half-sister.

 

As Arthur approached the little cluster, he noticed Merlin's cornered animal impression. Yet the girls were being civil to her, a touch too civil. They'd learned since the Sophia Incident the lengths Arthur would go to defend his best friend. So the nobles had changed tactics and were now sickly sweet all the time. He called this particular ploy the being-aggressively-nice-to-Merlin-so-Arthur-will-marry-me method; effective 0% of the time.

 

Of course the new girl hadn't caught on to this yet. Arthur heard her inform Merlin in her grating, nasally voice, "That color is so gauche."

 

Arthur was affronted; it was his favorite color thank you very much.  Merlin stared at her, more perplexed than insulted. "I'm sorry it offends you?"

 

The girl sneered, “How do you expect to catch Prince Arthur’s eye wearing _that_?”

 

Arthur remembered now, the girl’s mother, the Countess of Somewhere Important, had remarried some Lord living on _The_ _Dragon_. She’d just moved in a few days ago and clearly didn’t know who Merlin was.

 

Merlin gave her a cheeky smile.  “Why would I want to catch his eye?  Prince Arthur’s not all that.” She turned, caught Arthur’s eye and quirked an eyebrow over her shoulder as she said it—she knew he’d been listening in.

 

The girl bristled with righteous indignation. “Not all that?” she spluttered.  “Prince Arthur is the epitome of perfection! He is the—“

 

By this point, Merlin was bent double, snorting with laughter.  It was always funny—and a bit sickening—to  see how much people who’d never even met him, worshipped him.

 

“Well here’s your epitome of perfection,” Merlin announced when Arthur joined them.

 

He gave a little bow.  “Good evening, ladies.”

 

“Good evening, Prince Arthur,” they chorused in varying degrees of sultry. 

 

The girl who had been singing his praises turned the very hue of red she found so ghastly. “Prince Arthur!” she gasped and curtseyed deeply.  “My name is Alexandria.”

 

“An honor, Lady Alexandria.” Arthur brushed his lips over her hand and she swooned.  He waved his hand in Merlin’s general direction.  “And I see you’ve met Merlin, my tutor and my lovely date.”

 

Her eyes clouded with confusion.  “You’re friends then?”

 

Arthur grinned blindingly at Merlin.  “ _Best_ friends,” he corrected.

 

Alexandria’s enraptured countenance soured.  And she was one of those poor unfortunate souls who did not look cute when pouting.  Now she wasn’t ugly by any means, though how much of that was cosmetics and not actually genetics, Arthur couldn’t tell. Determined to hold on to his attention, she launched into a long narrative about herself with no clear plot or purpose. 

 

“Sire?” she ventured after a while.

 

“What?”  Arthur jerked out of his reverie. “Oh sorry—I must have—my apologies.”

 

“Is something the matter?” Alexandria asked.

 

Merlin nodded sagely from beside them.  “Arthur suffers from a grave condition.  He has—uh—ego-itis. His ego is so inflamed it barely fits in his head.”  She narrowly dodged Arthur’s errant elbow lodging itself in her side.

 

Alexandria, who clearly didn’t follow a word Merlin just said, made a sympathetic sound and gushed to Arthur, “Sire, you didn’t tell me.  That’s so _tragesty_.”

 

Arthur had to rewind the conversation a few times to realize ‘ _tragesty_ ’ was not a word in the Mariner language or in any language at all.  Alexandria had accidentally combined two words in an effort to blow him away with her stellar intellect. 

 

Merlin blinked at her, snorted loudly, and started giggling, and it wasn't a demure ladylike giggle either. The people nearby were positively scandalized. Arthur found this in itself more hilarious. 

 

He clapped a hand over Merlin’s mouth to quell her laughter and with his free hand, gestured for Alexandria to continue her inane small talk.  Arthur only removed it after Merlin had composed herself again. His palm came away with a red smudgy outline of her mouth. It only made Merlin laugh again.

 

“For heaven’s sake, Merlin.  And you call me immature,” Arthur admonished, not even bothering to hide his own smile.

 

Arthur was narrowly saved from public humiliation by association to Merlin by the dinner bell.  He ditched Alexandria and steered Merlin over to the long dining table and they took their usual places.  This time, an extra chair was added to the high table between Arthur and Morgana’s chairs for Agravaine.

 

Arthur’s uncle was already seated when he got there.  When Merlin sat down, Agravaine glanced at her with thinly veiled contempt written across his arrogant face.  “Arthur, please don’t bring commoners to the table.”

 

Arthur looked around.  “Commoners?  Where--?  Oh, Merlin?  She always sits here, has been for years.”

 

Agravaine’s expression darkened.  “That is a blatant breach of etiquette! A commoner sitting above their station?”

 

“It’s ‘above _her_ station’, the word ‘commoner’ is singular,” Arthur corrected without thinking.

 

His uncle went slack-jawed for a second.  “Nevertheless, it is highly inappropriate,” Agravaine continued to protest.

 

Merlin laid a hand on Arthur’s arm to get his attention.  “Should I go?”

 

“No stay.”

 

Agravaine spluttered in disbelief.  “Arthur—“

 

“No, uncle.  She stays.”  Arthur turned his shoulder to signal the end of the conversation, leaving Morgana to entertain their surly uncle.

 

*

 

Later, as Arthur escorted her back to her room, Merlin brought up something that had been troubling her.  “Your uncle hates me.”

 

Arthur shrugged. “Probably.”

 

“I’m serious.  If he didn’t already hate me from earlier in council, he definitely hates me now for sitting at the high table.”

 

He hummed an off-key tune.  “It’s likely.  I don’t see why you’re bothered by this.  A lot of people on this ship hate you.”

 

“Well yes,” Merlin conceded.  “But not anyone with that much influence.”

 

“Are you scared of him?”

 

“Not _him_ , but what he’s capable of, if that makes sense.  I just don’t trust him.”

 

Arthur considered this.  “He does have a certain vibe, I guess.  But he’s family, my mother’s brother, he wouldn’t do anything against me.  I think.” He faltered.  “Though he does have a penchant for stirring up trouble.  I’ll keep an eye out.  I won’t let him hurt you.”

 

Merlin stopped suddenly and turned around.

 

“What?” Arthur scanned the hallway and saw nothing.

 

She shook her head.  “Never mind, hearing things.”  That didn’t stop Merlin from being jumpy all the way back to her room.

 

Arthur kissed her good-night and this time both of them heard the audible gasp.  But when they looked, there was still no one there.

 

“It’s official,” Merlin declared.  “Your paranoia and insanity have rubbed off on me.”

 

Arthur nodded solemnly.  “If five years of acquaintance didn’t do it, then strangling me in my sleep these past few days must have.  I’m afraid you’re one of us now.  Though I can claim inbreeding, I’m not sure what your problem is.”

 

Merlin laughed and waved at him.  “I’ll see you in the morning, crazy.”

 

 


	17. Peasants and Nobility

**Chapter 17 – Peasants and Nobility:**

 

Arthur returned from breakfast with his uncle, irate and frustrated. He found Merlin curled up on his bed, dozing lightly. She woke up when he started clattering around idly.

 

"Morning Arthur."  Merlin yawned and stretched languidly.

 

"It's hardly mid-morning and you're taking naps already?" Arthur observed.

 

She shrugged. "It's never too early to nap. And I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

 

Arthur hadn't either, it was unsettling to be the only one in his bed again. He almost missed Merlin's somnolent flailing tendencies.

 

"And your pillow smells nice...Did I just say that out loud, no I didn't, you didn't just hear that." She burrowed her face into the aforementioned pillow.

 

But Arthur wasn't about to let this go. "My pillow smells nice," he repeated. "Merlin, are you aware that my pillow smells like me because I sleep on it—   Could you possibly be saying that I smell nice?"

 

"What? No!" Merlin shouted, far too quickly for it to be the truth. "Nooo nononono." She threw herself off the bed to prove it. "You smell of man-sweat and it's gross."

 

" _Riiiight."_

 

Merlin changed the subject by snatching up a folder of papers from the table. "I found copies of everything you need. You're lucky your handwriting is dreadful and I had to rewrite everything in order to read it."

 

Arthur rifled through it and beamed. "This is perfect. You're a savior, Merlin."

 

"Oh I know."

 

He puttered around some more. "Did any letters happen to come in?" Arthur questioned in that deceptive casual that screamed NOT-CASUAL.

 

"Yeah, whatever's on your desk. Why?"

 

Arthur immediately descended upon his desk. "During breakfast, Agravaine told me I should check my mail. He seemed really smug about something."  

 

He picked up an unmarked package and tore it open.  A small square of paper fluttered out, followed by something heavy. Arthur read the note first.

 

_V grateful for your help. All safe. This was your mother's. G sends his love.  -B_

 

With it, was a wide silver ring, set with intricate detailing around the middle. It was beautiful.

 

Merlin wandered over to get a look at it. "Somehow, I don't think this is what your uncle was talking about."

 

She gave it back to him and Arthur slipped it onto his pinky finger. Merlin continued to rummage through his desk and came across the tube Gwaine had given them. "What's this?"

 

"Gwaine's map. So we can find the island again. Though I'm not sure how we're supposed to read it."

 

"We'll figure it out." She picked up a sealed roll of paper. "Is this it? It's from your father."

 

"Open it."

 

Merlin skimmed it as Arthur read over her shoulder. They ended up reaching the sentence at the same time. Arthur read it out loud, "Effective immediately: fire your tutor, she has been deemed inappropriate and unsuitable for the position. You may select a replacement, but he/she is subject to my approval. "

 

Merlin dropped the missive in a state of shock. "I guess this is it," she said in a shaky voice.  "There goes my career."

 

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin." Arthur scoffed.

 

"Arthur. Your father—“

 

"Shut up, Merlin. Just shut up."  He paced a few times. "Don't you see? This is exactly what Agravaine wants. He's trying to get you out of the way. My father has nothing to do with it. You've been around for five years, he could have sacked you any time then."  Arthur seized her by the shoulders. "You're not allowed to leave me. You understand?  You can't. I can't live without you."

 

Merlin held him close. "I'm happy to be your servant until the day I die," she promised. Merlin pulled back suddenly. "Too cheesy?"

 

"A little," Arthur admitted with a chuckle. "But thanks."  Then he went serious again, a worrying glint in his eye. "I was thinking..."

 

Arthur pulled his mothers ring off his finger, stroked it a few times, committing it to memory, before holding it out to Merlin. "I'd like for you to hold on to it."

 

"Arthur—“

 

"Please. It would mean a lot to me if you did. I want you to have it."

 

Merlin pursed her lips. "Fine."

 

"Really?" He looked so hopeful.

 

"Really."

 

Arthur slid it onto the middle finger of her left hand, where it fit perfectly.

 

Merlin admired the ring on her hand, then admitted, "I'm afraid I'll lose it."

 

"You won't," Arthur declared confidently.  "I have faith in you."

 

Merlin was mollified. "Why?"

 

“Because you have the same unfounded faith in me. It goes both ways.”

 

“Then I’d hate to break that trust,” Merlin commented dryly.  She unlatched the chain around her neck and slid the ring onto it.  Arthur watched the silver band slide past her collarbone and disappear under her shirt. 

 

“Better,” he said.  “Now we really have to go to council.”

 

///

 

They were able to solve a majority of the problems by the end of the meeting with the help of the recovered documents. But they also sparked more questions. There was no food or supply shortage, but somebody _had_ edited the numbers to give the impression there would be.  All of the steward’s records had been revised as well.

 

“Write a report to my father,” Arthur instructed.  “He should be aware of our situation.”

 

Merlin stopped taking notes on the meeting and obediently pulled out a fresh leaf of parchment, quill held at the ready.

 

Arthur dictated the letter to her, “Father—“

 

She wrote: _Dear His Royal Highness King Uther Pendragon,_

 

“—There have been a few screw-ups since I left—“

 

 _Upon my return to_ The Dragon’s Call _, I have discovered a few pressing issues that I have dealt with accordingly._

 

“—some bastard has been messing with my papers!—“

 

_I suspect an individual or group has tampered with the official documents in my possession._

“—I will catch that stupid motherfu—“ Arthur paused and read over Merlin’s shoulder.  _The culprit will be apprehended and punished._ “Perfect, Merlin.  Just sign and seal it for me, will you?”

 

She wet the quill and signed with elegant loops and flourishes: _Arthur Pendragon_.  Merlin held her hand up. “Ring?”

 

Arthur handed it to her and she pressed it into the warm wax, imprinting the prince’s personal insignia: his family coat of arms of a rearing dragon combined with his own symbol of a eagle in flight.  Merlin went to flag down a servant and have it sent by bird to Uther immediately.

 

Agravaine cleared his throat loudly not a second after Merlin got up.  “Arthur, I trust you have seen the letter from your father that I mentioned this morning.”

 

Arthur kept his face passive even though he had more than an inkling of where this was headed.  “I have.”

 

“Then you are aware of the business regarding the commoner?”

 

Arthur gave him the tiniest of nods in confirmation.

 

“It is most unfortunate.”  Agravaine paused here for a second to mourn the carefully-orchestrated demise of Merlin’s occupation.  “Luckily for you, I have arranged for another tutor.  His name is Aredian, he will be waiting at the next port.”

 

“No need, uncle.  I have come to a decision,” Arthur declared.  “My father was right to fire my tutor: I have learned more than enough and I no longer require a formal education.  You may inform this Aredian that his services are no longer necessary.  Instead, I will be appointing Merlin as my personal advisor.”

 

Arthur had been watching his uncle’s face as he delivered the verdict.  Agravaine’s features flitted from expectant to smug to outraged to downright furious shot through with envy. His suspicions had been accurate, his uncle coveted the very position he’d just awarded to Merlin.

 

Merlin, who had just returned to the room as Arthur dropped his bomb, stood dumbfounded, performing her startled deer impersonation to perfection as every council member swiveled to stare at her.

 

Agravaine made a choking noise.  “ _Her_?  Just look at her, she’s a bumbling, uncouth, dimwitted—“

 

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, uncle,” Arthur threatened coldly.  “That is your new Royal Advisor you are slandering.”

 

“But she’s a woman!” Agravaine burst out, grasping at straws now.

 

“That’s very observant of you, uncle, but I’m sure Merlin has been aware for nearly eighteen years now that she is, indeed, a female,” the prince replied seriously, not a note of sarcasm in his voice.

 

His uncle’s face had long left behind crimson and was quickly migrating past puce towards a shade of plum that Arthur hadn’t known was humanly possible.  “She isn’t capable—“

 

Arthur _tsk_ ed. “I wouldn’t let Morgana hear that.  You continue to surprise me, uncle.  I didn’t have you pegged as a male chauvinist.  I assure you this is not nepotism; Merlin has earned the office through her own merits and hard work.”

 

“But Sire,” another voice piped up timidly.  “Does the Articles of Nauticals not state a Royal Advisor must be of noble blood?”

 

“Yes!” Agravaine agreed immediately, turning to locate the voice.  “Thank you, sir.”

 

The man who had spoken slumped in his seat, looking like he wanted to disappear.

 

“It is a valid concern,” Arthur acknowledged.  “But Merlin does qualify.  You speak of Article 12, Clause 7, yes?  According to Article 2, Clause 4, Merlin fits the definition of a noble and is therefore eligible for Royal Advisor.  Now I called this meeting to discuss the management of this ship and not my staffing appointments.  Any other issues can be taken up with me in your own time.  Dismissed gentlemen.”  He dragged Merlin out of the room before they had a chance to be ambushed with questions.

 

They eventually found their way to the library, old Geoffrey the record-keeper’s domain.

 

“Geoffrey, I need a seal of nobility,” Arthur announced in that pompous non-nonsense way he had.

 

The elderly man slowly put down his quill and looked up.  “Sire?”

 

“A seal of nobility,” Arthur repeated impatiently.

 

Geoffrey uncertainly pulled out a thick tome from the shelf behind him.  “What house?”

 

“Ambrosius,” Merlin said quietly.

 

Geoffrey gave her a long measuring look.  “Sire, might I remind you of the consequences of forging a royal document?  If the girl is caught with a seal that does not belong to her—“

 

“I assure you, she is of noble blood.”

 

He objected, “She owns no land—“

 

“Then I’ll give her land.  She can have a whole damn continent.  Just make her a seal,” Arthur snapped.

 

Geoffrey insisted, “Sire, I can’t possibly—not without proof—“

 

“I have a signet ring,” Merlin interjected.  She reached up and unclasped the delicate chain around her neck.  On it were two rings: one was Arthur’s mother’s, but the other, the prince had never seen before.  It was gold and engraved with the emblem of a flying dragon.

 

Geoffrey inspected it closely, and his eyebrows climbed to astronomical heights.  “It’s genuine. Where did you get this?”

 

Merlin scowled.  “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.  It was handed down to me.”

 

He gazed at her shrewdly.  “I haven’t seen heads nor tails of your family in a long time.”

 

Merlin gawped incredulously.  “Maybe it’s because—“

 

Arthur gripped her arm to make her shut up.  “If that’s all, Geoffrey, Merlin will have her ring back, and you can send the seal up to my room when you’re finished.  Good day to you.”

 

Once safely in the corridor, Arthur hissed a reprimand.  “Merlin, no one knows about what happened to your family.  They just disappeared one day.  Now don’t go stirring up trouble.”

 

Merlin pursed her lips and her stormy eyes flashed angrily.   “ _Don’t stir up trouble_? Your father slaughtered most of my family!  The least I could do is defend their memory.”

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” he said warningly.

 

“No, Arthur.  You don’t get to act like this.”  Merlin turned on her heel and stormed off.  And when Arthur made to follow, she broke into a run and disappeared down one of the concealed servant’s passages.

 

///

 

Ironically, that was how Arthur found her again later.  He’d ducked into a corridor hidden behind a tapestry as a shortcut to the kitchens.  The dark, narrow tunnel sloped down, then tapered off, ending at a door.  When Arthur exited the portal and looked behind him, it was impossible to discern where the doorway ended and the wall panels started.

 

Then someone walked right into him and Arthur automatically held his arms out to catch the person.  It only took one whiff of citrusy soap to identify the hallway-crashing culprit as Merlin.

 

She glowered when she recognized the muscled chest holding her.  “Arthur.  Let go of me.”

 

He peered down at her.  “No, I don’t think I will.  You’ll run away again if I do.”

 

Merlin scowled and didn’t deny it.

 

“Look Merlin, I’m sorry.  I hate when you’re mad at me.  I don’t know what you want me to say,” Arthur pleaded.

 

She thought about it.  “Say ‘I am an extremely insensitive brat’,” Merlin instructed.

 

“I am an extremely insensitive brat,” he repeated.  “Feel better now?”

 

“Yep.”  Merlin cheerfully looped her arm through Arthur’s and tugged him along after her.  “I’m going to my dress fitting right now.  Come with me?”

 

Arthur didn’t think he really had a choice given the way his elbow was basically shackled to Merlin. He never ceased to find it amusing how Merlin could never hold a grudge when it came to him.  Even with his levels of stupidity and tactlessness, Merlin was seldom really upset for more than an hour.

 

“So what’s the dress for?” Arthur asked when they got to the seamstresses’ annex.

 

“Your sister’s birthday next week.”  Merlin took her dress and went behind the screen to change.

 

Arthur wrinkled his nose.  “Do I have to go to that?”

 

“Yes,” she called over the rustling of fabric.

 

“Do I have a present for Morgana yet?”

 

Merlin shrugged even though Arthur couldn’t see her.  “I don’t know.”

 

“ _Mer_ lin! You’re supposed to get one,” Arthur complained petulantly.

 

“Like I do every year?  I’m your a _dvisor_ now, it’s not my job anymore,” Merlin informed him gleefully.

 

Arthur sighed dramatically.  “I knew I was going to regret this.”

 

Merlin came back around wearing a black silk slip of a dress, unadorned and plain.  The seamstress would add the embellishments once she was sure it fit Merlin perfectly.

 

Arthur was already shaking his head.  "No, no it's all wrong.”

 

“What? I like it,” Merlin protested.

 

He ignored her.  “You're a noble now, you should dress like one.”  Arthur went to the seamstress and discussed in private the changes he wanted.

 

///

 

The next day when Merlin returned to the seamstress, Arthur insisted on accompanying her again.

 

Her dress had been altered to include a scandalously low neckline, a tighter corset, and way too much padding for her nonexistent bum. The hem had also been brought up several inches to show off her entire leg in its pasty glory and threatened to reveal her equally pale rear end as well.

 

Merlin stared at herself in the mirror, horrified. "It's the same thing but ten times trashier."

 

"Exactly!" Arthur exclaimed, proud of himself.

 

"I can't wear this!"

 

Arthur was honestly confused. "Why not?"

 

“Because,” Merlin explained patiently, "my cleavage is up to my neck and everything is hanging out!"

 

"So? You look hot," he stated bluntly.

 

Merlin threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yeah? Well my eyes are up here, Arthur."

 

"M'not looking at your eyes," Arthur muttered, distracted.

 

Merlin made a frustrated noise and stomped back behind the changing screen, knowing full well the stupid prince was now ogling her backside.

 

"I still don't see what was wrong with it," Arthur called.

 

"I dare say you'll see well enough when all your knights start looking at my _eyes_ too," Merlin responded viciously.

 

Arthur growled.  “They wouldn’t—“

 

“Wouldn’t they?” she asked nonchalantly.  Merlin was well educated in the science of How To Get a Rise Out of Arthur Pendragon.

 

When she was back in her normal clothes, Arthur was already across the room talking with the seamstress about more adjustments.

 

///

 

Merlin found Arthur in his room, hunched over an ink splattered parchment that was more crossed out than written on. His desk was spilling over with discarded crumpled wads of paper and the odd snapped quill.

 

Merlin crept over to his side and tried to read the appalling handwriting. She pointed at an illegible scribble, "There's an 'h' in charismatic."

 

Arthur grunted and fixed it by crowning the 'c' with a party hat '^' that had an 'h' perched on top of it.

 

Merlin tapped another phrase. "The word you're looking for is 'cooperate' not 'copulate'," she corrected gently.

 

Arthur sighed, leaning back and flexing his stiff ink-coated fingers. "I hate writing speeches. Giving them is great. But writing them is a nightmare."

 

"Hmm," Merlin replied noncommittally. She picked up his quill and scribbled out a few more mistakes.

 

Arthur took that opportunity to grab Merlin around the waist and haul her into his lap. Once she settled against him, Arthur started laying wet kisses on the nape of her neck.

 

"Arthur, what does this mean?" Merlin read part of the speech out loud to him.

 

He stopped nuzzling behind her ear for a moment. "Oh. I meant 'she has always been an inspiration to me', something along those lines."

 

Merlin jotted down a sentence in her messy shorthand, the letters stumbling over each other as they hit the paper.  "Arthur. I'm not writing this whole thing for you."

 

Arthur pouted. "Why not? It'll come out better if you do."

 

Merlin paused to shiver when he bit lightly at the junction of her shoulder and neck. "Because. Morgana's your sister. It'll sound more heartfelt if you do it."

 

Arthur gestured at the paper. "Heartfelt? Everything I wrote is complete bullshit. So as my new advisor, I am advising you to write her birthday speech for me," he commanded imperiously.

 

Merlin rolled her eyes. "I don't think it works like that--"

 

Arthur licked along the shell of her ear. "What's that?" he asked wickedly.

 

"Ngh," was her coherent response. Merlin reluctantly pushed him away. "If you keep distracting me, I'll never finish this by tomorrow."

 

Arthur resigned himself to playing with Merlin's hair instead of touching her person. He tried his hand at braiding, but it didn’t really look right.  Arthur settled for just twirling a curl around and around his finger.

 

Merlin had just finished touching up the conclusion when a messenger boy knocked on the door with a new letter.  She slit open the plain blue seal and smoothed out the message.  On the square of paper, four words were scrawled: _First Mate Agravaine de Bois._

 

Once they'd both read it and had the words etched into their minds, Merlin tossed it into the brazier and watched the paper shrivel up and flake off into ashes.

 

Arthur could still hear in his mind, an echo of the conversation from several years ago: _I was five years old when the royal guards showed up and he had to leave. We were told by his first mate, years later that he had perished in a shipwreck._ Then he compared it to what Balinor had recently told them: _I sent a man to find you.  He returned with news of your unexpected death due to some sort of bandit raid orchestrated by the king._

 

He glanced sideways at the dark murderous expression gracing Merlin's face. "I could kill him," she said, low and angry.

 

The prince lightly placed his hands on Merlin's arms, unsure if his touch was welcome. When he wasn't rebuked, Arthur rubbed her shoulders to settle her trembling. "Merlin," he warned gently. "We must be patient, no doing anything rash. Agravaine will be punished in due time."

 

Merlin stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You're not arresting him?"

 

"I can't."

 

"Arthur! That man is the reason I grew up without a father, why we went hungry all those winters. My mum was absolutely crushed when we got the news and I know my father was too. He's caused my family no end of pain, pain that wasn't necessary at all! We could have been happy all those years." Merlin looked at him with beseeching eyes, her vulnerability laid bare across her face.

 

Arthur turned away. "Merlin, I know. I hate him for hurting you and your family. But I can't arrest him yet. There are no solid charges we can bring up against him," he explained, praying for her to understand.

 

"Then make up charges!" She shouted. "Arrest him for belittling you, for just being a slimy git, I don't care! You're the prince, the captain of this ship, no one can argue with you."

 

"You know, if I could arrest people for being slimy gits, our dungeons would be a whole lot fuller than they are," he joked weakly.

 

She leveled a laser-sharp, eye-narrowed glare of death at him. " _Arthur_."

 

" _Merlin_. I'm not my father. I refuse to compromise our justice system because of a personal vendetta. We will find tangible evidence of all his crimes and bring it against him in his trial. I won't let us dock until we've got him locked up," Arthur swore. "I'm sorry, M," he added in a sorrowful voice.

 

Merlin shook her head. "I get it. I'm not mad at _you_."  She smiled a cheeky smile, went onto her tiptoes, and pecked him in the lips. "You are so whipped, Arthur Pendragon."

 

Arthur harrumphed. "Am not."

 

Merlin beamed at him. "So does this mean we get to search his room and follow him around?"

 

"No. Maybe,” he amended.

 

“Awesome!  Let’s go!” She made for the door.

 

“Merlin!  We can’t just barge into his room.”

 

Merlin was adorably confused.  “Should we dress in black or something?”

 

“Nooo.” 

 

“Then why can’t we?” Merlin asked innocently.

 

Arthur struggled to come up with a legitimate excuse.  Merlin had chosen a good moment to play stupid.  All of his reasons ended with ‘we’ll get in trouble’ but he was the Crown Prince and couldn’t really get in trouble.

 

The prince’s curiosity eventually won over his better judgment and that was how they found themselves slinking in the shadows by Agravaine’s room.

 

Arthur rapped on the door, loudly. Then he banged on the wood, making a riot and demanding to see his uncle. They held their breath and waited.  They were met with a resounding silence. 

 

Arthur tested the door; it was unlocked. Before he could enter, Merlin stopped him. "Bet?”

 

It was an old game of theirs.  Whenever they couldn’t settle an argument or Merlin wanted to con Arthur into something, they’d have a wager.

 

Arthur's competitive streak kicked in. "I'm in.”

 

“Try to guess what we'll find in there. Three crimes, go."

 

Arthur thought about it, then rattled off, “He’s behind my missing papers, wants to overthrow my father, and—“ he lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “he’s having a secret _liaison_ with someone.”

 

Merlin snorted.  “Have you been sneaking Morgana’s romance novels?”

 

Arthur gave her a push.  “Your turn.”

 

Merlin deliberated for a moment. "The fake food shortage, my old job, and he wants to kill someone," she decided. “Stakes?”

 

“Winner gets complete control over the loser for two hours?"

 

"Make it three and you have a deal," Merlin bargained.

 

Arthur agreed and they shook on it.

 

Merlin edged the door open and they slipped inside.  Agravaine's room was a dark, somber affair, the heavy drapes stifling any natural daylight. Even in the dark, Arthur knew the layout of the room well enough to locate the huge desk in the back.

 

A candle was lit and the two of them began scanning the papers, sifting through piles of documents but careful to replace them exactly how they’d been found.

 

“I think I found something,” Arthur whispered.  “Bring the light closer.”

 

It was a report from the kitchens.  There were a few servings missing, which was unusual but not at all alarming.  But underneath it, was a replica of the report with the numbers exaggerated.  The few apples missing (likely filched by a stable hand and fed to a beloved mare) had been translated into entire barrels lost.  Much of the other stock had been similarly understated, thus amplifying a small problem. 

 

“My papers!” Arthur’s documents, which must have been liberated from the prince’s desk while they were gone, sat beneath the reports.  They had also been doctored to create complications that didn’t exist.

 

“We’re one for one,” Merlin pointed out wryly.

 

“I wish we weren’t,” Arthur muttered back.  He rummaged through drawers while Merlin went to search by Agravaine’s desk.

 

“Arthur,” she called after a while.  “Come here!”

 

It was an unfinished letter.  Agravaine had gotten careless, leaving it on the bed-side stand.  The letter was addressed to someone simply known as ‘My Lady’.  It detailed his ambition to become Arthur’s most trusted confidant, his disposal of Merlin by intercepting Uther’s real letter and fabricating a new one ( _That’s two for me!_ ), and how close he was to his end goal of overthrowing Uther Pendragon ( _Now we’re even,_ Mer _lin_.).  In general, it was a perfectly incriminating piece of evidence.

 

“Take it,” Merlin urged.

 

Arthur nodded.  “We’ll need it.” 

 

Just as he finished stuffing it into his jacket, keys tinkled outside the door.  They froze.


	18. Fire and Fight

**Chapter 18 – Fire and Fight:**

 

Arthur moved first, wrenching Merlin with him into a heavy wardrobe. 

 

“The candle!” she hissed.

 

He darted back out and pinched the flame with his fingers. Arthur raced back and Merlin had only just pulled the door shut when the room flooded with light from the corridor.

 

Agravaine walked in and cast a suspicious gaze around the room.  Arthur and Merlin both stopped breathing.  Seeing nothing out of place, Agravaine moved on to his desk and the two intruders in his closet gave a sigh of relief.  Then Merlin started panicking.  How long would they have to stay in there?  There was no way she was spending a night cramped in a closet with Arthur.  Not to mention what would happen if they got caught.  It would be difficult for even Arthur to talk his way out of this.

 

Someone knocked on the door and Agravaine bade him/her to come in. Arthur shuffled Merlin aside and pressed his eye up against the crack of the wardrobe door to watch the goings on.  Merlin heaved a put-upon sigh and ceded her look-out position, resigning herself following the conversation as best she could with her ears.

 

Light steps skittered across the floor.  “Lord Agravaine,” a female voice greeted.

 

“Who is it?” Merlin breathed into Arthur’s ear.  It had taken her a while to find it in the first place.

 

“That creepy girl,” he whispered back.  “You know, with the eyes?”

 

Merlin stared at him. To her knowledge she didn’t know anyone— _Ohh._ “You mean Nimueh?”

 

Arthur gave an absentminded nod, refusing to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

 

Nimueh was holding something in her hands and Agravaine cupped his hands around hers to get a better look.

 

"Tell…it's a...love..."

 

Arthur could barely make out what his uncle was saying. He looked to the girl, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face betrayed no emotion. "How...it work?" she asked.

 

"A drop...blood with the...man drinks...love you," Agravaine explained.

 

Nimeuh nodded and tucked the thing somewhere under her cloak.   "I'll...give…love...tomorrow.”

 

She bobbed a brusque curtsey and stalked out of the room.

 

Arthur pulled his face away from the gap and glanced at Merlin, who was almost hidden from him by the hem of several long coats. She had her ear pressed to the wooden door of the wardrobe, but from her pinched brows, she hadn't made any more sense of the conversation than he had. Though one thing was for sure. "There's my illicit affair. I'm three for three," Arthur whispered smugly.

 

Merlin frowned at him. Then she shifted so she was half sitting on him and peeked out at the room through the narrow opening.

 

Agravaine was puttering around his room, holding a scroll of parchment. He paused at his night stand fingers lingering where his letter once sat. The man looked around, confused and worried. Then fury dawned on his features. Merlin heard him cursing and muttering about a servant girl as he passed by. Agravaine flew out of the room, door banging shut.

 

Once his footsteps faded, Arthur was pushing Merlin out. But their limbs were hooked together so they ended up tumbling out of the wardrobe in a heap.

 

Arthur extricated himself and went over to the scroll his uncle had dropped. Upon unrolling it, he discovered it was a map of the ship detailing the defenses at each entrance. Only the captain of the guard had this, and it was always under heavy lock and key. Stealing it and planning to share it was a major offense.

 

He took it and tucked it somewhere Agravaine would never look: behind the drapes.  Arthur would be sure to direct his guards that way when they eventually searched Agravaine's room.

 

Evidence planted, they hightailed it out of Agravaine's room before the man could return.

 

///

 

Since Arthur's room was just down the hall, they stopped there first.  Merlin made herself comfortable in a chair, siting with her back against one armrest and her legs dangling over the other. Arthur pulled out the pilfered letter and locked in one of his drawers. Then Arthur started getting ready for bed.

 

When he was changed and his teeth were clean, Merlin got up to leave. Arthur caught her arm. "Stay?"

 

Merlin pretended to think about it. "With you? Hm, I don't know."

 

Arthur just rolled his eyes and threw an old shirt at her head. She changed out of her clothes quickly and donned Arthur's shirt; it fell to her knees like a dress.

 

As she was doing this, Arthur had thrown back a corner of his duvet and clambered into his bed. Merlin took a circuit around the room, putting out each of the kerosene lamps and pulling the curtains closed. Then, fumbling around in the dark, she blindly made her way to the bed. Her bruised shins notified her when she reached the bed. Merlin patted the mattress, groping around for a land mark.

 

"That's my knee, Merlin. Please let it go," a disembodied voice said from the bed.  A hand seized her wrist and yanked so she was tumbling into Arthur.  "That's better. Now would you stop squirming?"

 

Merlin squirmed twice as hard just to be contrary. "Could've given me some warning," she hinted.

 

Arthur was assaulted by elbows and knees. He attempted to arrange Merlin's limbs so they wouldn't threaten his soft bits. "But where's the fun in that?"

 

Merlin knew without seeing, that Arthur's accompanying smile was sure to be shark-like.

 

"You know, I have a theory," she announced, when they had settled against each other.

 

Arthur replied, unimpressed, "That's nice."

 

"I think you never had a doll as a child so now you're making up for it by cuddling me," Merlin informed him.

 

"I'm rolling my eyes, Merlin. I'm cuddling you because you're too tiny to stay warm. And dolls are for girls," he added with an affected sniff.

 

"Good. Because in the summer, I'm not touching you, you big sweaty octopus. And you're being sexist," Merlin accused.

 

She felt him shrug. "It's okay. I've got a pretty lady in my bed so I must be doing something right."

 

Merlin huffed and scooted away. "The pretty lady resents that."

 

But the next morning found them entwined together again, bodies melding into each other. Arthur woke up to Merlin's relaxed features inches away from his and he felt content, wrapped up in this cocoon of warmth and bliss.

 

The tranquility was shattered by someone pounding on the door. It sounded a whole lot like Sir Leon.

 

Arthur sat up as far as he could without dislodging Merlin. "Come in."

 

It was indeed Sir Leon and he looked harried. "Sire! Merlin--" Then he noticed the dark head resting against Arthur's chest.

 

"Merlin's right here," Arthur pointed out. He trusted Leon not to let a word of this encounter leave the room.

 

The knight blushed, even though all parties were fully clothed. "That is good news, sire."

 

"Leon, tell me what's going on."

 

"There was a fire in Merlin's room. Someone broke in and threw some type of flammable explosive at her bed. The morning patrol smelled the smoke and put it out, but the bed was so burned we thought--" Leon stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence.

 

Arthur shuddered and pulled Merlin close. He'd nearly lost her without even knowing it.

 

"And sire?  When we got there someone had ransacked the room as well."

 

Arthur's mind raced. Was there anything of value in Merlin's room?  Her two rings were around her neck, Gwaine's map was in his room, though some of her books were kept in her own chambers... But Arthur knew for a fact Merlin had read each of those several times. Still...

 

He shook Merlin awake. "Good morning, love," he cajoled.

 

She only wiggled around and snuffled back into his neck. "No."

 

"Get up, Merlin," Arthur demanded, patient demeanor evaporating. "Leon has to show us the damage in your room."

 

Merlin sat up ever so slowly and blinked at the knight. "Hullo Leon."

 

Leon smiled at her. "Hello Merlin. I'm glad to see you this morning."

 

She froze half way out of bed as she caught up to what Arthur had said. "Damage? In my room?"

 

Leon nodded soberly. "Someone broke in and ransacked your room, then tried to set you on fire in your sleep. The knights are searching the ship right now for the arsonist."

 

"Shit," she breathed. She turned and shouted shrilly, "Arthur! What are you waiting for? Stop laying about! Get up, get up!"

 

Arthur threw his hands up in frustration and Leon had to hide his amusement. They quickly changed, Merlin back into yesterday's clothes and Arthur into fresh ones, and left the room in a flurry of movement. Arthur and Merlin charged down the hall after Leon and were at Merlin's in record time.

 

A crowd of knights and onlookers were milling around outside her door. They were stunned when they saw her alive, well, and already berating the prince for his latest tactless comment. Someone let out a whooping cheer. From out of nowhere Gwen tackled her and then squeezed the air out her lungs with a constrictor-worthy hug. "You're alive. You're alive," she chanted over and over. Gwen's face was lined with concern and her eyes were rimmed red.

 

"Oh, Gwen."  Merlin embraced her friend. "I'm fine, see? Arthur insisted I stay with him last night."

 

Gwen flung herself at Arthur, hugging him around the middle. "Thank you, sire. Thank you. Thank you. I think I love you."

 

Arthur patted her awkwardly. "You're welcome, Guinevere."

 

Merlin went to inspect her open door and the lock that had been crudely smashed beyond recognition. She mentally steeled herself for what she would find inside.

 

The bed was a charred, blackened mess. Only the frame remained, the sheets had been reduced to ashes. One of the curtains was half eaten too. Luckily, everything else had escaped the fire, although it did look like a tornado had gone through it.

 

"Can you tell if anything is missing?" Arthur asked.

 

Merlin nodded mechanically. She set about straightening furniture and returning her possessions to their proper spot.

 

"How does she know what she's doing?" Leon wondered, watching Merlin place a pencil on the table and rotate it just so.

 

"Photographic memory," Arthur explained tersely.

 

When Merlin finished reconstructing her room, she took a step back and evaluated her work. "That's bizarre," she said finally. "From what I can see, nothing's been taken."

 

Leon noted that down in the report he was making.  “Thank you.  We’ll keep looking.  In the meantime, I can spare a few men to assist you in moving your belongings to your new quarters.”

 

“Move in with me,” Arthur suggested promptly.

 

“ _Arthur_.”

 

“What?  I know you want to,” he coaxed.

 

Merlin was torn.  It did sound nice and it would be more convenient but— “It’s against court rules and…I don’t think we’re ready yet.  Taking it slow, remember?”

 

Arthur made a sulky face.  “Fine.”

 

“Ask me in a month.  I’ll make sure to be ready by then,” Merlin promised.  “For now, I’ll move closer to you.”

 

“The room across the hall is empty,” Arthur said right away.

 

Merlin smiled.  “Sounds perfect.”

 

///

 

The ever-helpful knights helped to transport Merlin's things from old to new room. When they left, Arthur stuck around and acted as her unpacking slave for about an hour.  He eventually got bored of arranging furniture (" _Left! No, my left! Too far. Now right!  More right! Left a little more..._ ") and went off to train with his knights. Merlin, who usually liked to watch their training sessions, stayed behind in favor of perfecting the aesthetics and feng shui of her new chambers.

 

About half an hour in, the door banged open and Nimueh stormed in. Merlin dropped the book in her hands.

 

Nimueh flicked the lock home and turned to appraise her. "You are one hard person to get rid of," she said conversationally.

 

Merlin took a step back, her eyes wide. "Why are you doing this?"

 

Nimueh shrugged. "Because I hate you. And I'm getting paid."

 

"Agravaine?" Merlin guessed.

 

"Very good, little bird," she praised. "So you are as clever as they say."

 

"Arthur thought you were having an affair with his uncle," Merlin mentioned inanely, stalling for time.

 

Nimueh wrinkled her nose. "With that old toad?  I'd never."

 

Merlin had been inching backwards as they spoke and had now drawn level with her bed. She darted a hand under her pillow and seized the knife stowed there.

 

Nimueh saw the movement and reached under her cloak. Just as she threw the dagger at Nimueh, Merlin was hit in the ribs with a searing pain.

 

Merlin looked down at the source of the excruciating burning sensation and found her dress on fire. She threw herself on the bedding and rolled around until the flame was no more. When she had finally caught her breath, Merlin carefully examined the jagged hole in her dress and the red blistering burn underneath.

 

Nimueh's shout across the room reminded Merlin that she wasn't alone. The knife had sunk into Nimueh's shoulder and she'd just pulled it out, leaving behind a deep wound that bled profusely.

 

When she saw that Merlin was still alive, Nimueh screeched and flew at her, knocking both of them to the ground. Merlin nearly blacked out from the white hot pain in her flank. She must have screamed out loud, for not a second later, someone was beating on the door loudly and jiggling the locked handle.

 

Merlin ignored it and concentrated on staying conscious and holding off Nimueh's attacks. Nimueh caught Merlin in the cheekbone, making her see stars. Merlin blindly hit back, making contact with something soft. She dug her nails in and Nimueh howled above her. Merlin thrashed wildly, legs kicking and torso writhing. Nimueh aimed another punch at Merlin, but missed, her fist pummeling the ground instead. At the same time Merlin raked her nails over Nimueh's face, creating thin crimson furrows that dripped in rivulets down her neck. Nimueh's arm landed heavily on Merlin's mouth and she tasted blood. When that arm covered her nose as well, Merlin bit down hard. The offending appendage retreated, then made a reappearance at Merlin's solar plexus. The air rushed out of her lungs and she lay there winded. There was a roaring in her ears and distantly, Merlin was aware of Arthur yelling hysterically outside.

 

Nimueh pinned Merlin's wrists and sat on her stomach with a triumphant smirk on her face. "Lover boy can't save you now."

 

Merlin spat in her face and felt a rush of vindictive pleasure—or maybe that was breathlessness—as red tinged saliva streamed down Nimueh's mangled cheeks.

 

"Why you—“ Nimueh's hands left Merlin's wrists and wrapped around her throat. Merlin's fingers scrabbled uselessly, trying to pry Nimueh's hands off her neck. Her lungs burned and her vision was getting dim around the edges.

 

Then the pressure was lifted off of her and Merlin was able to suck in lungful after lungful of sweet, precious air.

 

She could hear Arthur barking out orders and the knights complying without a word. Nimueh was hauled out of the room kicking and screaming.

 

"Merlin! Merlinmerlinmerlin." Arthur's concerned features entered Merlin's line of sight. He tried to help her sit up.

 

Merlin shook her head frantically and gestured at the inferno raging in her side.

 

"Ah shit," he said hoarsely.  Arthur leaned closer to the nasty burn. "Oh my—Merlin how—“ His fingers crept closer too. She slapped them away. "Right, sorry."

 

Arthur moved away somewhere behind her. His hand gently lifted her head and transferred it to his thigh. "Merlin, you need to slow down, you're going to hyperventilate."

 

Merlin panicked. Nononono. She needed air. More air. All she could feel were Nimueh's hands on her neck and steel bands squeezing her chest. No. There was not enough air.

 

Arthur's hands cupped her face. "Merlin, sweetheart, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Can you do that?"

 

She nodded.

 

He took an exaggerated inhale. "In." Held it for a second and released. "Out."

 

Merlin struggled to follow his pace. "In. Out. Inoutinoutinoutininin—“

 

"No, don't speed up." Arthur took her hand and put it over his heart. "Now try again."

 

Merlin found it easier to focus when she could feel the steady thrumming of Arthur's heart and the rise and fall of each breath. She stared up into his jewel blue irises, getting lost in the flecks and depth of his eyes.

 

By the time the physician, Aglain, had arrived, Merlin had brought her breathing back to normal speed.  Aglain checked her over while she was still laying in Arthur's lap, gently assessing her bruises and scratches. When he reached the burn, he had to cut most of her dress off around it. The burn was perfectly circular, swollen, and magnificently disgusting to look at.  Aglain tricked cool water over it and then loosely wrapped it in gauze. After that was taken care of, he bandaged the odd scrape and spread ointment on her black eye and other various bruises. When Aglain was done, her split lip still stung every time her mouth moved and the burn was a constant roiling patch of agony, but Merlin felt exponentially better than before.

 

"Thank you so much, Master Aglain," Merlin slurred, feeling weightless on pain relieving potions.

 

He smiled fondly at her. "Feel better, Lady Merlin."

 

Arthur got up to see him to the door. When he returned, he lifted Merlin up and carried him across the hall to his own room. "I can't believe it. I leave you for a second and you almost get assassinated. You're staying with me from now on."

 

Merlin couldn't find the strength to argue. That was probably why Arthur had brought it up at this moment anyways.

 

Arthur kissed her forehead. When he pulled back, she was already fast asleep.

 

///

 

When Merlin woke, she was completely disoriented. Her burn throbbed, her head felt heavy; everything hurt.  She eventually recognized the scarlet curtains and wooden frame of Arthur's four poster bed, so she knew she was in the prince's room. But how she got there was a mystery.

 

Merlin turned and found Arthur curled up at her side, watching her. He had one of her hands in his, but otherwise did not touch her.

 

"Hey," he said when he noticed she was awake. "How do you feel?"

 

Merlin scrunched up her face. "Like I was beat up by a psychotic woman who tried to kill me."

 

Arthur's laugh was strained. "But really," he said, worry coloring his words, "how are you?"

 

Merlin shifted closer to him. "I'm okay. It's manageable.  I have you to thank for that."

 

"It's lucky I left my vambraces in my room and I heard you when I went to get them."

 

"Good thing you did. You saved me," Merlin told him earnestly.

 

Arthur shook his head. "You shouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. I left you alone and that's my fault."

 

She frowned. "Arthur, don't do this to yourself. Give her more credit.  If you hadn't left me then, she would have just waited until I was alone later. You got to me in time, that's all that matters."

 

He didn't look very convinced. "You didn't see yourself," Arthur said quietly. "You were so still and covered in blood—“

 

"It was mostly hers," Merlin remarked honestly.

 

Arthur still looked pained by the memory. "What happened in there?"

 

"She came in and cornered me, said she'd been trying to kill me for a while. Then I threw a knife at her shoulder and she hit me with some kind of fireball. We started wrestling on the ground. She pinned me, I spit in her face, she tried to strangle me, you intervened. Oh wait, she mentioned she wasn't having an affair with your uncle, so you were wrong. But he did hire her so I win the bet!"

 

Arthur didn't seem too upset about his loss. "Merlin, I'm just glad you're alive. I don't mind doing whatever you want for three hours."

 

///

 

He was singing a different tune five days later when Merlin revealed his punishment.

 

"I absolutely refuse to dress like a woman!"

 

Merlin made a tsk-ing noise. "Are you reneging on our terms?"

 

Arthur grimaced. He couldn't very well agree to a wager and then back out of it. His reputation as a man of honor was at stake here. But surely Merlin saw how unreasonable the whole endeavor was... Arthur glanced at Merlin. She was happily flitting around the room humming to herself. Usually when Arthur was in this kind of situation, he'd hide in his room all day. But since Merlin had moved into his giant suite of rooms with him, he'd lost his hiding place.

 

"Arthur." Merlin made puppy eyes at him. "I almost died remember?

You need to do this to make me happy again."

 

"Oh shut up." The first few times she'd pulled that trick, Arthur had actually felt bad for her. He'd brought her food and did his own laundry for once and completed that extra set of math problems. But now Arthur Pendragon was done being nice.

 

" _Please Arthur_."

 

…Maybe he'd stop being nice after this. "Fine. But see if I ever save your sorry ass ever again," he threatened.

 

Merlin was already cheering and hugging him. "Yay!"

 

Someone knocked on the door.

 

"That must be Morgana." She went to go answer it.

 

" _Morgana!_?" His sister was never going to let him forget this.

 

"Yeah, I asked her to help."

 

"You asked her to help before I said 'yes'?" Arthur asked, disbelieving.

 

Merlin shrugged. "Of course. You never say 'no' to me."

 

///

 

"No."

 

" _Arthur_."

 

"I said 'no'."

 

"It'll grow back—“

 

"No."  Arthur understood shaving his face, but his arms and chest? "I'll look like a—“

 

"Girl," Morgana supplied. "Which is the point."

 

"Just a bit off the top part of your chest and your forearms," Merlin bargained. "Nothing more."

 

Arthur somehow found himself with smooth arms and baby-soft pecs. "This is disturbing," he announced while petting his skin. Merlin stroked it too.

 

Morgana pulled out a variety of powders and her torture kit. She selected a brush and began brutally attacking Arthur's face with it.

 

"Ow! _Morgana!_ Stop that!"

 

"Don't be such a girl, Arthur," she replied.

 

Merlin sat next to him at the table and watched Morgana at work. "A little more on his cheek to cover the man-pores."

 

"I do not—“

 

Arthur got cosmetic powder in his mouth for his troubles. Though he didn't stay quiet for long, "You already got my forehead. Many times."

 

"I'm contouring. Before that I was applying foundation and concealer," Morgana explained curtly.

 

" _Now_ what are you doing?"

 

Merlin named each item as Morgana smeared it on his face. "Bronzer, blush, shimmer, primer. Brow pencil, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara. Lip liner, lipstick, lip gloss. Done! Oh wait, hold still, she's putting your wig on."

 

Arthur balked. " _Wig_? Ow, stop stabbing my scalp!  Watch where you stick those pins, you harpy."

 

"You're done!" Merlin squealed. "Let me see!" She stared at him for a few seconds, her mouth curling into a smile. "Is it weird that I think you make a pretty girl?"

 

Arthur shot up across the room to his mirror. Morgana had done  a flawless job as usual. He didn't think he looked half bad. Though the hair— “What is this color?"

 

Merlin shrugged her shoulders. "It was the closest we could get to your real hair. But this way it'll be harder for people to make the connection."

 

Arthur's mouth fell open. "I have to go out in public?"

 

"Duh. It's only been half an hour. You'll have at least a full hour at the ball.  Three hours remember?" She wiggled three innocuous fingers at him.

 

Arthur was already regretting agreeing to this.

 


	19. Ladies and Lords

**Chapter 19 – Ladies and Lords:**

 

"Absolutely not," Arthur said firmly.

 

Morgana shrugged. "I don't need your permission."  She manhandled Arthur into a padded whalebone corset.

 

Arthur spluttered violently as Morgana tugged on the laces. "Are you trying to kill me?"

 

"We're giving you a womanly figure, dear," Merlin patronized. She cheekily cupped one of Arthur's fake breasts.

 

Arthur puffed his chest and stuck his bum out. "Like what you see?"

 

Morgana snorted. "You make a horribly un-seductive woman."

 

Arthur pouted his lips and fluttered his eyelashes. "How about now?"

 

"You look like a duck having a seizure," Merlin told him bluntly. "Now get dressed."

 

In a snit, Arthur swiped the dress from her hands and stomped away to change. It took Arthur a while to make sense of where to put his arms and head. When he emerged from behind the screen, Morgana had left to get ready and Merlin was doing her own makeup at the vanity.

 

"There is no way I'm wearing this," Arthur objected upon seeing himself in the mirror.

 

Merlin paused and glanced up. "What's wrong with it?"

 

Merlin had gone to the seamstress with her own design and Arthur's measurements to have it made. She was rather fond of it. It was a light blue Greek-inspired gown, dotted with round light-reflecting "stars" that formed the constellation Virgo.

 

"Of all the constellations in the sky, you chose this?" Arthur complained.

 

Merlin nodded seriously. "It took me a while to figure out what would wound your delicate virility the most. I was going to make you a dove but I thought being a maiden was worse."

 

Arthur huffed. "I hate you."

 

Merlin hummed absentmindedly. "That's nice." She slid a stack of bracelets onto his wrist and wound a length of gold cord around his middle. "You're all done, Lady Ardelle."

 

Arthur studied himself. "I look like my mother."

 

Merlin didn't know how to respond to that. But she had to agree; judging from the colossal portrait hanging in Uther's ship, the resemblance was uncanny. Merlin hoped no one else caught on.

 

///

 

Knowing the bet had only awarded her three hours of tormenting Arthur, Merlin wasted no time. She summoned one of the younger knights to Arthur's room.

 

Galahad was new to court.  He was sixteen and the youngest son of a wealthy noble.  He also idolized Arthur and would do anything for the prince's praise.

 

"Hello Sir Galahad," Merlin greeted. "Prince Arthur is busy at the moment, but he wished to ask a favor of you."

 

Galahad nodded fervently. "Anything, milady."

 

Merlin grinned; her new status had its perks. "Arthur's cousin Ardelle is visiting. Do you mind escorting her to the ball?" She lowered her voice. "She's a bit shy. You'll have to stay with her and make sure she mingles a little."

 

Galahad's eyes widened and he preened, proud to be entrusted with such an important job.  "Of course, milady."

 

"Ardelle!"

 

Arthur slouched his way over, reluctant, while Galahad looked as if all his dreams had been fulfilled.  "M-my lady. If I may say, you look stunning tonight." The knight blushed red.

 

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes.  "Thank you Sir Galahad. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said in a high falsetto voice devoid of enthusiasm.

 

Galahad never noticed 'Ardelle's' lackluster mien. He took her arm and led her away, a beam in his face.

 

Merlin waved at them. "Have fun Ardelle! I'll join you once I'm ready."

 

Arthur turned and made a rude hand gesture at her.

 

///

 

Arthur wanted to stab something. Repeatedly. And it had only been ten minutes.

 

Everybody and their mother had come by to gawk at him and ask him who he was.

 

"I'm Prince Arthur's cousin, Ardelle," he gritted out for the thousandth time.

 

"I've never heard of you," Lady Whatever-her-face-was remarked wonderingly.

 

"I'm sorry," Arthur offered. Then he flounced away, leaving the woman to mull over what just happened.

 

Galahad followed him like an eager puppy, never without that chipper smile in his face. Nothing Arthur said, no matter how snarky or inappropriate, got a rise out of the young knight. Though he did do a copious amount of silent blushing as a result of Arthur's most recent euphemism.

 

One of the noblemen asked him to dance; the man was so smarmy, but there was no polite way for Arthur to turn him down. Near the end of their dance, another man cut in. He was loud and abrasive and rather stupid in Arthur's opinion. The prince was relieved when another man took his place. The next one only addressed Arthur's fake cleavage when he was talking. Arthur wanted to punch him. The man after that stuttered and flushed so much he couldn't string together a coherent sentence.  In this way Arthur was kept occupied for the next half an hour as songs and dancing partners blurred together. He eventually ended up with one of his own knights and was able to beg off between waltzes.

 

The banquet hall was dim and only illuminated with a few candles so the reflective "stars" sewn into all the clothing would shine brightly. It was a pretty cool visual effect especially with all the couples twirling around. But it did make it impossible to locate Merlin.

 

Arthur was beginning to suspect she was staying away on purpose.

 

It was Merlin who found him first.  She insinuated herself next to him and slung a chummy arm over his shoulders.  “Hey.”

 

Arthur turned fractionally to appraise her.  Merlin was dressed as a black swan for the constellation Cygnus.  Her ballerina-inspired ensemble featured a short shirt of ebony feathers, wing-like sleeves, and an open back edged with lace.  “What are you, like an ugly duckling or something?”

 

Merlin rolled her eyes.  “Don’t start, I’ve already heard it.”

 

Any further comment was cut off by the arrival of Uther and his court.  The king was clearly dressed as Jupiter in his purple _toga trabea_ and sheet metal cut-out lightning bolt.

 

When the king’s entourage had settled down, the heralds and the trumpeters raised their cries to announce the arrival of Morgana, the guest of honor.

 

She swept in like a blazing inferno, fierce and proud in her radiant beauty.  Her brilliant tangerine ball gown billowing around her, the masses of tulle flickering like flames, setting her on fire.  Morgana was the perfect picture of a vibrant spirit embodied in a phoenix.

 

All the guests cheered loudly at Morgana’s dramatic entrance and most of the men could hardly tear their eyes from her.  She managed to glow like a beacon in the dark room. Arthur suspected sorcery or at least strategically placed fluorescent gemstones.

 

A throat cleared behind them. Arthur turned slowly with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  It was his father.

 

“Merlin, where is my son?” he asked imperiously.

 

Arthur fought to keep his face neutral.  He was both relieved and irritated that his own father didn’t recognize him.

 

Merlin curtsied. “Sire.  Prince Arthur was feeling indisposed earlier and is resting in his chambers.  He promised to be in attendance in time for the speeches.”

 

Uther nodded dismissively, then faced Arthur, who was fidgeting and sweating abundantly in turns.  “My lady.  I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

 

“L-lady Ardelle.”  Arthur extended a trembling hand for his father to kiss.

 

“Would you care to dance?”

 

Behind the king, Merlin was struggling to keep her composure.  Arthur glared at her, before returning his attention to his father.  “It would be an honor, sire.”

 

Uther spent much of their dance just staring into Arthur’s face.  “You remind me of my beloved Ygraine,” he said finally.

 

Arthur swallowed and looked away.  “You flatter me, sire.”  Over his father’s shoulder, he could see Merlin dance with knight after knight, who kept cutting each other off, competing for her attention.  Arthur supposed a new lady was a hot commodity. He made sure to keep an eye on her and her swarm of suitors.

 

Arthur finally succeeded in escaping the intense stare and enamored arms of his father and went to hide among the gossiping gentry where Uther would never find him. 

 

“I wonder where Prince Arthur is,” a girl was saying wistfully.  “I was hoping to get a good ogle at that glorious physique.”

 

“Where do you think he is?  He’s not with Merlin today,” someone pointed out.  “You think she fell out of favor with the prince?”

 

A young man piped up, “You think that Merlin is on the market now?  She sure is dancing with a lot of men.”

 

Someone else agreed with him.  “It’s so hard to get a shot at her with the Prince hovering around.”

 

“I hear your Prince is possessive like that,” Arthur commented casually. 

 

The little group swiveled to look at him.  “Yeah? What do you know?” the first girl asked.

 

Arthur shrugged. “I heard he’s real fond of that Lady Merlin.  And that’s why he’s not here right now.  It’s all a test.  Prince Arthur’s here, but in disguise, hiding, watching.”

 

A few of them glanced around shiftily at the shadows.

 

“I don’t believe you,” another girl said.  “Why would he be hiding?”

 

“To make sure no one lays a hand on his girl,” Arthur replied like it was obvious.

 

One of the squires in the group looked worried.  “ _I_ danced with Merlin.  What do you think the prince will do to me?”

 

Arthur responded, unconcerned, “I don’t know, castrate you?”

 

The blood drained from the squire’s face. 

 

Someone touched Arthur’s exposed shoulder and he flinched violently.  Merlin had somehow snuck up behind him.  “Did you just squeal?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

 

“No!”

 

Merlin pulled him away from the group, who were watching the exchange avidly. “And did I just hear you spreading rumors to keep people away from me?”

 

“What? No,” Arthur denied hastily.

 

Merlin gave him a knowing look.  “I’m not going to leave you for one of those men, you know.”

 

“I know that, but.”  Arthur pursed his lips, unsure how to continue.  “Don’t you get jealous sometimes?”

 

Merlin thought about it.  “Well.  I’m not as ridiculously insecure as you are, or as possessive by far.  And for as long as I’ve known you, everybody has been trying to get in your pants. It’s basically a given.  I guess I’ve just gotten used to it.  I don’t particularly like it, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.”

 

Arthur pouted.  “Now that is just unfair.”

 

“And what are you going to do, sire?  Command me to not make you jealous?”

 

Arthur had actually considered it, but hearing Merlin say it out loud just ruled out that option.  “No.”  He peeked at her through his lashes, intent in his eyes.  “I’m going to make you jealous,” Arthur announced with a dramatic flair.

 

Merlin rolled her eyes.  “Let me help you out with that.  Sir Leon!”  She waved at the knight as he passed. ”Come dance with Lady Ardelle.”

 

Leon obediently drew closer and bowed before Arthur.  “May I have this dance—“ he glimpsed the lady’s very familiar stubborn moue.  “—Sire?   What—?”

 

Arthur let out a put upon sigh.  “I lost a bet. To Merlin.”  He grimaced at the memory.  “Speak of this to no one.”

 

Leon agreed quickly. “Of course—my lady.”

 

Arthur was grudgingly whisked off to dance. Leon made an effort to steer the conversation toward training drills to prevent himself from dwelling on the fact he was dancing a lively polka with the Crown Prince.

 

Merlin lost track of Arthur for a while after that.  She found him again hiding behind a potted plant, sulking.

 

“Hello, my little drag princess,” Merlin sing-songed.

 

“Call me that again and I will have you buried alive in an ant hill,” Arthur snarled.

 

She snickered, unfazed by his threats.  “ _Someone_ 's in a good mood.”

 

“I was groped,” Arthur hissed. “Multiple times! By my own council members, most of whom are around sixty and _married_!”

 

Merlin didn’t bother to hide her own amusement.  “Serves you right for throwing yourself shamelessly at every man you see.  Speaking of men,” she inclined her head at someone who was hovering behind him.

 

It was Galahad again.  Arthur only felt the smallest twinge of guilt for ditching his impressionable young knight.

 

“May I dance with you, my lady?” Galahad seemed distinctly nervous, alternating between picking at his shirt cuff and wringing his hands. 

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Merlin.  “Well?  Go on, dance with the lad.”

 

She gave him an exasperated look.  “He means _you_.”

 

 _Oh_.  That explained the hopeful expression on the boy’s face.  “Right then,” Arthur said, feeling unbalanced.  He took Galahad’s proffered arm.

 

Arthur had decided early on in the evening that he did not enjoy dancing as a girl.  It was extremely dizzying to be spun around so many times.  And he could hardly finish a dance before someone else was cutting in to take his partner’s place, making it impossible to escape. 

 

The giant clock on the wall shuddered out nine cacophonous chimes.  Arthur sprang away from Galahad.  His three hours were up!  Liberated, Arthur raced out of the banquet hall whooping.  Merlin rolled her eyes.

 

///

 

It took Arthur almost half an hour to squirm out of his gown, rip off the corset, and scrub his face of makeup.  Then he had to change into his real costume.

 

When Arthur stumbled back into the banquet hall, his lashes were still unnaturally sooty and his lips stained artificially pink.  He wore a particularly revealing wine-red _exomis_ with knee-high winged sandals.  In his hands were a sword (functional) and a shield painted with medusa’s head (not so functional—unfortunately).  Merlin had teased him mercilessly about his hero complex when he chose Perseus as his constellation.

 

Upon his entrance, Arthur's attention was caught by the sound of his name. The voice led him to the source: a confrontation between his favorite person and his new least favorite.

 

"—haven't seen Prince Arthur with you this whole night.  Has he finally gotten bored of you?" Alexandria asked, half hopeful and half snide.

 

The look Merlin gave her was withering. "He's right behind you," she said coolly.

 

"Prince Arthur," Alexandria simpered. "You make a dashing Perseus. And look, I'm Andromeda!"

 

Arthur barely spared a glance at her barely there dress cinched with gold chains.  He pushed past Alexandria, swooped in, and kissed Merlin soundly on the mouth. In public. Maybe it wasn't as great a plan as he'd thought. Hopefully everyone was too drunk to remember.

 

When he pulled away, he looked around surreptitiously. No such luck. People were staring. And whispering.

 

Arthur did what he always did and paid it no mind. Alexandria, strangely enough, seemed more cat-like than surprised or upset. Merlin was unperturbed as well after her flushed had receded, though she did keep shooting furtive glances at Uther's back.

 

The king eventually did turn around, though it was to gesture at Arthur and not have Merlin arrested. It was time to give his speech.

 

Merlin smiled at him, radiating all the faith and pride in the world. It would've been less out of place if Arthur had hung the moon and stars himself. Instead, he was delivering a speech he only half wrote.

 

Arthur went up to the head of the high table and tapped a spoon against his goblet to get the room's attention. A hush fell over the guests as they turned—like sunflowers seeking the sun—expectantly towards the prince.

 

"Welcome all and thank you for joining me to celebrate the Lady Morgana's nineteenth birthday."

 

Everyone applauded and Morgana tried not to look too pleased.

 

When the noise settled down, Arthur began to speak. He launched into a humorous story about Morgana chasing after him with a sword to avenge the dolls he had beheaded. Arthur paused in all the right places, mouth curving into a self-deprecating smile at his younger self’s antics.  From there, he segued into an analysis of all of Morgana’s best personality traits, interspersed with more endearing memories from their childhood.

 

Merlin had read over that speech so many times that it was permanently etched into her brain by this point.  But she was still the first person to jump up and applaud enthusiastically when Arthur finished.  The prince’s eyes sought her out and he sent a genuine grin her way.  Merlin beamed back.

 

Morgana got up and embraced her brother, earning another round of cheers from around the room.  Arthur was congratulated and lauded by various members of the court.  He had just extracted himself and was making his way towards Merlin when he was stopped by his father.

 

“That was an impressive speech,” Uther remarked, clapping Arthur on the back.

 

Arthur ducked his head, still uncomfortable from ‘Ardelle’s’ interaction with the king earlier.  “Thank you, father.  And I apologize for my tardiness.  I wasn’t feeling quite well.”

 

Uther waved it off.  “Your tutor informed me.  You’re feeling better?”

 

“Yes.  Merlin—Wait, _tutor_?”

 

“Tutor, governess, educator, whichever term you prefer.”

 

“I thought you wanted me to replace her,” Arthur said cautiously.

 

The king looked at him strangely.  “Why would you think that?”

 

“Well you sent me a letter requesting I fire her.”  Arthur was starting to feel confused as well.  He’d just assumed his uncle had convinced his father to get rid of Merlin.

 

“I did no such thing.”

 

Arthur frowned.  “Yet I received at letter from you.  Agravaine—“

 

“ _Agravaine_?  He’s here?”  Uther scanned the room, as if he expected the man to jump out from behind a tapestry.

 

Arthur stared at his father, silently wondering if he was losing it.  “Yes, Agravaine.  He arrived on my ship a few weeks ago at your request.  You told me I should take him as an advisor.”

 

Uther looked at his son with consternation.  “ _I_ told you?  Are you sure?”

 

“It had your seal on it,“ Arthur said uncertainly.

 

“Let me see it.”

 

They discreetly left the party and Arthur led the way back to his room.  He stared at his desk’s numerous drawers, daunted, when he remembered he had no idea how Merlin’s filing system worked.  Arthur was saved from his father’s judgment by a knock on the door.

 

“Merlin?” he called.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Come in.”

 

She entered and curtseyed to both royals.

 

“Merlin, fetch me Agravaine’s letters,” Arthur commanded.

 

Merlin went over to a cabinet behind his desk and found the papers in an embarrassingly short amount of time.  One of these days, Arthur was really going to have to learn to keep track of his own records.

 

Uther read over the letters with fury dawning on his face.  “I did not write these.”

 

Arthur had more than an inkling of who had.  “You didn’t send Agravaine?”

 

The king shook his head.  “I haven’t seen him in years.  I thought he was with Bayard on the Mercia fleet or living on Cenred’s ships.”

 

Arthur nodded grimly. He strode out the door and into the hall in a decisive manner.  “Guards!”

 

Uther and Merlin trailed out, unwilling to miss out on the action.  Arthur kicked down Agravaine’s door, still wearing only a skimpy ancient Greek tunic.  The contingent of guards who had gathered followed him in.

 

They heard Arthur shout, “Search everything, the table, the wardrobe, behind the drapes!”

 

Then the prince reappeared with Agravaine, the sword that went with his costume held to his uncle’s throat.  “By order of the Crown Prince, I hereby arrest you, Agravaine de Bois, of high treason.”

 

///

 

Once Agravaine had been safely deposited in the dungeon, Arthur, Merlin, and Uther returned to Morgana’s soiree.

 

Arthur had pranced off to dance with a buxom red head after promising Merlin, “I _will_ get you jealous.”

 

Merlin laughed out loud when elderly Lady Higgins gave the prince’s behind a fond pat.  Arthur’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline at her audacity. She only smiled and tottered away.

 

“You didn’t happen to see that, did you?” Arthur asked when Merlin approached.  He automatically reeled her in for a dance.

 

She smirked as she placed her hand in his and her other on his shoulder.  “Of course I saw it.”

 

“And you didn’t happen to get jealous, did you?”

 

“Unfortunately not, though it was a close thing.”

 

Arthur nodded sagely.  “You were right to.  I’m thinking of leaving you for someone older.  Perhaps a council member, or my father.”

 

Merlin snorted. "You pervert."

 

Arthur squawked indignantly. "I'm not the pervert!  You're the one sleeping your own student."

 

"Well when you say it that way… Hey, aren't you older than me anyways?"

 

He tightened his grip on her waist. "Maybe."

 

“And you’re not my student anymore,” she reminded him.  “You’re my advisee.”

 

Arthur's hand strayed lower, wandering dangerously close to her arse.  Merlin pulled his arm up. "Watch yourself," she said sternly.

 

Arthur only grinned mischievously. "Yes ma'am."


	20. Crime and Punishment Pt. 1

**Chapter 20 – Crime and Punishment Pt. 1:**

 

Arthur was summoned by his father early the next morning. He rolled out of bed, leaving Merlin to snuggle into the warm dent he left.

 

The halls were already teeming with servants laden with trays of breakfast for their masters. Arthur bumped into Guinevere and was able to purloin a pastry that had been intended for Morgana.

 

From there, Arthur headed above decks. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, lending a golden glow to the heather clouds.  He crossed the suspension bridge that was strung between the two ships, conscious that any errant gust of wind could send him careening to his death.  His steps came a little quicker after that morbid thought.

 

Arthur’s feet tread the familiar path to Uther’s room without him thinking about it.  He knocked on the doorframe to alert the king of his presence before entering the open door.  “Good morning, father.”

 

Uther acknowledged him with a brief nod.  “Good morning, Arthur. Sit, we have business to attend to.”

 

Arthur sat apprehensively. 

 

“As you know,” he began, “I am High King of the World.  Yet I only rule the oceans, which coincidentally cover eighty-five percent of the world.”

 

Arthur knew this very well and didn’t see why his father was recapitulating these facts.  There was something more to this than a history lesson, so Arthur kept quiet and waited for the king to get to the point.

 

Uther continued.  “The continents are split up and ruled by lower kings, whom I control.  They send me tax money and I support their ventures, help them put down uprisings.  However I wish to keep a closer eye on some of the more powerful states.”

 

The king steepled his hands and studied him with a fathomless gaze.  “I did not wish to bother you with this on your birthday, thus, I am telling you now.  Now that you are of age, it is time for you to begin considering marriage.”

 

Arthur had known this was coming, but he did not expect the hollowness or the despair that arrived with it.  He felt a leaden weight drop in his stomach.

 

Uther did not appear to notice his son’s reaction.  “I took the liberty of inviting several eligible daughters of Terrestrial Kings to stay aboard my vessel.  You are to spend time with each of them.  By the end of this week, I expect you to chose one to court.”

 

“A week?”

 

“They will arrive tonight.  Starting tomorrow, you will have six days; spend them wisely.  Perhaps you should move back into your old rooms here to make the most of your time.”  Uther’s unyielding expression indicated it was not a suggestion, but a thinly veiled order.

 

Arthur sighed.  “Yes, father.  But the criminals—“

 

“Resolve it today or you will have to delay a week. I expect you to dine with our guests tonight, no excuses.”

 

“Of course, father.”

 

///

 

Merlin woke up to an empty bed.  She wasn’t bothered by it, correctly assuming Arthur was off doing princely things.  Merlin went down to the kitchen, relieved to find the servants still happy to see her despite her new lady-ship.  Cook cuffed her head for not visiting sooner and the kitchen girls plied her with warm rolls.

 

When she’d polished off the bread and finished licking honey off her fingers, Cook tossed an apron at her.  Merlin grinned and pulled it on.  She happily set about chopping up carrots for the soup.

 

“Look at our Lady Merlin working in the kitchens with the rest of us peasants,” Gerald teased, his expert fingers kneading and working a lump of dough.

 

“What would the Prince say if he could see you now?” Carlyn chimed in.  Even as she looked up to smile at Merlin, her hands never stopped gutting and de-scaling fish.

 

Merlin paused to accept celery and potatoes.  “Not much I’m afraid.  The surest way to that man’s heart is through food.”

 

The servants laughed, they had all, at one time or another, witnessed the Prince’s enormous appetite.

 

Someone gasped in the corner and Merlin turned around.

 

“Can I help you, m’dear?” Rosa asked the stranger.

 

Alexandria stepped into the flickering light of the ovens.  She eyed the lobsters in Rosa’s arms with disgust.  Then her eyes returned to Merlin, a strange look on her face.  “No.  Thank you.”  Alexandria turned and left.

 

Alban, up to his elbows in dirty dishes, frowned at her retreating back.  “Merlin, you know that girl, or something?”

 

“I know her, she’s new.  Doesn’t like me too much.” Merlin stared at the doorway for a second longer before resuming her vegetable mutilation.

 

“Want us to poison her food for you?” Gerald offered.

 

Merlin laughed.  “Better not.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”  She put the strange encounter out of her mind and began mincing onions.

 

Merlin spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, helping out where she could.  It wasn’t an unusual occurrence; Merlin often spent her free time there.  The warm scent of yeast and the aromas of frying fish and savory stews reminded her of her mother’s kitchen.  It was nice doing something useful, surrounded by the cheerful camaraderie of the veritable army of scullery girls and assistant cooks and kitchen staff.  When she finished, Merlin frequently left with a belly full of quiche or grilled salmon or some other sample of that day’s main course.  Today was no different; she received a cup of the rich, creamy soup her efforts had gone into.

 

When Merlin was done, she excused herself, promising to come back soon.  She needed to get back, Arthur would surely be done with whatever business he’d had that morning.

 

Merlin rounded the corner just as someone shut the door to her and Arthur's room. The person turned upon hearing Merlin's footsteps and revealed herself to be Alexandria, again.

 

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked rudely.

 

"I was bringing the Prince lunch," she responded primly.

 

"Why would you—“

 

Alexandria put on a menacing face and got close to Merlin. "I know what you're doing and it's wrong. I found your love potion."

 

Merlin was completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

 

Alexandria reached into her pocket and drew out a small bottle. "This was in your room.  I learned how to use it.  Now he will love me instead."

 

Merlin recognized the bottle. She threw open the door and dragged Alexandria into the room.

 

"Arthur don't drink that!" Merlin shouted.

 

Arthur froze, wine cup half way to his mouth. He put the goblet down. "Explain."

 

"She poisoned it."

 

"I did not!" Alexandria exclaimed.

 

Merlin narrowed her eyes. "Did you or did you not put something in Arthur's drink?"

 

"The truth," Arthur added pointedly.

 

"I did, sire," Alexandria admitted. "But you wouldn't have died from it. That woman," she pointed at Merlin, "has been putting it in your food this whole time. That's why you think you love her."

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "That's highly unlikely."

 

"It's true, sire. I found this potion in her room—“

 

Arthur's eyebrows rose even more. "May I see it?"

 

She handed it over. He took the bottle, uncorked it and took a hesitant whiff. Arthur blanched. "This is your hemlock, Merlin, is it not?"

 

Merlin nodded solemnly. "I forgot about it. I didn't realize it was missing until now."

 

Alexandria looked between the two of them. "Sire? You knew she had a love potion?"

 

"Oh for crying out loud," Merlin snapped. "It's not a love potion, it's a deadly poison. You were two seconds away from killing the prince!"

 

"No!  That's not poison, that's a love potion! I swear! I just wanted to make you like me," she said miserably.

 

"Would you like to drink it then?" Merlin challenged. "After all, it should only make you fall in love with yourself."

 

Alexandria paled. "I—I—“

 

Arthur put a hand on Merlin's arm. "That's enough. Let me take care of this.”

 

Merlin narrowed her eyes but backed down.  Her good mood from that morning had entirely evaporated.

 

"We're taking you into custody and I will question you later," Arthur informed her. He took a random hair ribbon of Merlin's and adeptly bound Alexandria's hands together.

 

At this point, the silly girl was sobbing uncontrollably, tears dripping down her nose and a stream of incoherent babble leaving her mouth. Arthur appeared split between consoling her or just ignoring her.

 

"Merlin, call my council together. I need witnesses. Have them meet me in the throne room."

 

Merlin nodded and peeled off from the little group.

 

She returned with a trail of council members following her like ducklings. The throne room had been set up like a court: three chairs in the middle for the criminals, seats in a half circle for the council, and guards lining the walls. Arthur sat on his throne and Merlin went to stand behind him.

 

A side door opened and guards marched in with Nimueh. She looked gaunt and grimy, but had otherwise recovered from their tussle. Merlin couldn't help a twinge of annoyance. Her burn still pained her and the black eye had to be hidden under a generous amount of makeup. After Nimueh came Agravaine, who looked worse for wear. His hair hung lank and his signature smug expression had dimmed. He seemed to have a hard time living without his material comforts. Behind him came Alexandria, eyes red, nose and makeup runny. She looked like a mess. Her hair was in a disarray and her skin blotchy. The three were escorted to the chairs at the center of the room and chained in. Arthur looked on, emotionless.

 

When everyone was in their place, Arthur stood up to address the room. "This, as you well may know, is not a trial. It is a questioning session. Here I will attempt to further understand the circumstances and your possible motives. If I deem that you are unrelated to the crimes and events being discussed, you will not be subjected to a trial and may go free. Therefore, it is in your best interest to speak the full and honest truth.  Let us begin. Alexandria Tharrington of Hereford?"

 

The girl's lower lip wobbled dangerously. "Yes, sire?"

 

"You were found attempting to poison the Crown Prince. Would you like to explain yourself?"

 

"Yes!" She tried to jump up when she remembered she was manacled to the chair. "Sire, I didn't know!  I found the bottle in her room—“

 

"What were you doing in Lady Merlin's room?" Arthur asked calmly.

 

Alexandria paled but remained silent.

 

Arthur tried a different question. "You don't seem to like Merlin very much. Why is that?"

 

Her eyes went to a spot over his shoulder where Merlin was standing. "Because you like her even though she's rude and unladylike and doesn't follow any rules. And then I saw you kissing her and I knew there was some mistake. I knew you were under a love spell."

 

"So instead of telling me, you took matters into your own hands and made your own “love potion”, is that correct?"

 

Alexandria looked down, shamefaced. "Correct, sire."

 

"And who identified the liquid as a love potion and told you how to use it?"

 

Her eyes widened with fear and she shook her head. "I don't know, sire."

 

"Let me ask you again, who told you how to use it?"

 

Alexandria sought out another set of eyes then flinched away like she'd been burned. That one frightened look had been enough.

 

"Nimueh," Arthur said, unsurprised. Unbidden, the memory of the interior of Agravaine's wardrobe came to mind. They'd mentioned love potions then too. "You gave the bottle to Nimueh, who brought it to Agravaine. Then she came back telling you to add a drop of your blood to it and have me drink it."

 

Alexandria nodded. Beside her Agravaine shouted, "Say no more, you foolish girl!"

 

Emboldened by Agravaine's words, she continued. "Nimueh told me that when she killed Merlin, the spell would wear off. But then she got caught. So yesterday, Agravaine told me I should give you the potion. I wasn't sure how until I overhead Merlin this morning in the kitchens. But I wasn't trying to hurt you, sire, I was only trying to save you from that witch!"

 

Arthur ignored her accusations. "Alexandria of Hereford, you attempted to put a spell on me—is that even a punishable offense?" he asked Merlin quietly.

 

"There is no precedent. Punish as you see fit," she whispered back.

 

"—you poisoned my food, almost killed me, ransacked Merlin's room, stole from Merlin, and consorted with traitors to the crown. You shall be tried in a week.  You are dismissed."  Arthur turned to Nimueh, pretending not to hear Alexandria's anguished wails as the guards dragged her out. "Nimueh Lake of Avalon?"

 

Nimueh's eyes bored into him, yet she said nothing.

 

"You were caught attempting to kill Lady Merlin. Were you paid by Agravaine to do this?"

 

"I was."

 

"You are also a serial arsonist and co-conspirator in Agravaine's plot to kill me. Do you deny these accusations?"

 

"No."

 

Arthur was vaguely unsettled by her candidness, but brushed it off. "Very well. Nimueh of Avalon, you have committed treason. You will be tried in a week. Any last comments?"

 

"Arthur Pendragon, I hope you burn in hell!" she spat vehemently.   The guards sprang into action, pushing her out of the room. Nimueh did not speak again, though she did send Arthur one last venomous glare.

 

Arthur didn’t see it since he was facing his uncle.  “Agravaine de Bois of Sherbourne.  What is your business aboard the Dragon’s Call?”

 

Agravaine didn’t look fazed, his slimy smile back in place.  “Your father sent me to advise you, sire.”

 

“That is a lie.  You replicated my father’s seal and impersonated him through writing.  The king had no knowledge of your presence here.  Why did you wish to advise me?  To turn me against my father? To embezzle money from the treasury?”

 

Agravaine did not respond, neither did Arthur expect him to.

 

“Did the Lady pay you to do this?”

 

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he still did not speak.

 

“What is your quarrel against my father and I?  I am your sister’s child, we are blood relatives,” Arthur implored.

 

“You are no family of mine!” Agravaine finally shouted.  “You and your father killed Ygraine and Tristan.  You are a family of murderers! No, I will not rest until all you Pendragons are dead!”  His frenzied eyes rested on Merlin.  “And I’ll get your little pet too!”

 

Arthur watched him, emotionless.  “It’s over uncle, you’ve lost.  You will be tried in a week.  Take him away.”

 

Agravaine was led out, silent and contemptuous.  When he was gone, the council members began muttering amongst themselves.

 

“What do you think?” Arthur inclined his head, keeping an ear out for the council members while listening for Merlin’s answer.

 

“I think your uncle is mad,” she decided.  “And dangerous.  Nimueh’s a little off too.  And Alexandria was just dumb enough to get caught in between.”

 

Arthur nodded.  “I’m staying with my father for the next week, he wants me to entertain a bunch of girls.  Can you stay and look into the case some more?  Find whatever you can for the trials next week.”

 

“Yes, my esteemed liege.  I’m on it.”

 

///

 

Several hours later, Merlin and Arthur were wending their way through the bowels of the Queen Ygraine.  They were still dissecting the questioning session and trying to make sense of all the evidence.

 

"—he won't escape justice. Especially not with my father cracking down on penal measures the way he is," Arthur assured her.

 

Merlin nodded even though inside, she had a sinking feeling.

 

The guard at the door stuck his pike out apologetically. "Invite only, sorry Merlin."

 

Merlin waved him off. "I wouldn't want to be a part of that circus even if they invited me.  Have fun, Arthur."

 

Arthur scowled and stalked into the dining room. Several of the guests were already present and milling around the room, mingling. Arthur pasted a charming smile onto his face. "Good evening everyone."

 

They all murmured their greetings.  King Lot of Essetir—what used to be North America—was the first to approach him, family in tow. "Prince Arthur. I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my family.”

 

‘Pleasure’ was an overstatement.  His wife was a stiff, stern woman who looked down at Arthur with clear disdain, while his twin daughters, Ella and Ana, had the personalities of a shrew and a chair, respectably. Arthur brushed his lips to each woman’s hand, knowing the mother would immediately scrub her knuckles with a handkerchief while the daughters would likely never wash that hand again. He prayed he wouldn’t have to sit next to any member of the royal family of Essetir during dinner.

 

Arthur made small talk with Lot, punctuated with his wife’s haughty sniffs and his daughters’ unrelenting eyes staring avidly at Arthur’s face.  He was more than relieved when Uther arrived and everybody was seated for dinner.  Thankfully, Lot’s party was sitting far down the long table from Arthur.

 

“Wine, sire?”

 

Arthur held out his goblet for the serving girl to fill.  He suddenly pulled it back and the girl nearly poured wine on the floor.  Arthur twisted around in his chair.  “Mer—“

 

“My name is Sara, sire,” Merlin said in a deceptively guileless voice. She was wearing Camelot livery, the Pendragon dragon splayed boldly across her chest. Arthur didn't want to know who she had bribed to get the position for the night. Though he did question said person's sanity for permitting Merlin—who could trip even in the absence of obstacles and constantly walked into walls—near anything hot that could potentially end up spilled on Arthur's lap.   

 

At some unseen cue, Merlin retreated and returned minutes later with the other serving girls, bearing plates of cold appetizers. As she leaned over to serve him, Arthur hissed in her ear, "Why are you here?"

 

"To keep an eye on you," Merlin murmured back. "It should be entertaining."  She moved down the table to serve others.

 

One of the kings took advantage of the silence to address Arthur. "Prince Arthur, I'm surprised you haven't settled down yet. A man like you would surely have no shortage of female admirers.  What are you waiting for, sire?"

 

Arthur offered the man a wan smile. "I must confess, I'm still waiting for the right girl.  From what I've heard, my parents were perfect for each other and very much in love. I hope I can find something like that for myself."

 

From across the table, another king, Pellam, spoke up. "What qualities do you expect in this future wife of yours, sire?"

 

He raised his eyebrows. Arthur hadn't been expecting a full out interrogation, which in hindsight, was extremely naive of him. Of course these men were going to question him within an inch of his life before entrusting him with their precious daughters. "Kind, graceful, strong, smart, understanding. Someone I can trust and rely on. Someone who is easy to talk to, knows me well, and balances out my own strengths and weaknesses. And she must be wise and responsible and capable in order to reign at my side as queen."

 

The man who had voiced the question, nodded. "That is a fair, though certainly lofty standard to fulfill."

 

Arthur replied seriously, "Camelot deserves the best and I will accept nothing less as my queen."

 

Several of the kings seemed to approve of the devotion he displayed for his kingdom.

 

"A noble cause," another man pronounced. "I wish you luck."

 

Their conversation was dropped as everyone's attention shifted to the magnificent roasted peacock, brought in on a litter of candied fruit and wreathed in its own brilliant feathers. The immense platter was hefted by two boys, while the serving girls filed in behind them, each bearing a different dish. The boys deposited their burden at the end of the table and began to carve up the bird with quick, efficient strokes. The rest of the dishes made rounds, a servant pausing by each seat and offering a sample of the delicacy to the occupant. Then the ring of dishes rotated until each guest had previewed every option.

 

Merlin eventually reached Arthur's seat with her tureen of distressingly lurid contents.

 

"What exactly is that?"

 

"Purple vichyssoise," Merlin said, ladling a large portion into Arthur's bowl. "I helped make it."

 

"That explains a lot," Arthur muttered.

 

She gave him a look. "You better like it or I'm not coming back over here."

 

That was enough to spur him to dig in with gusto. It was, contrary to expectation, delicious, though Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to know what ingredients leant the dish its color.

 

"So, Prince Arthur," boomed Olaf, King of Northumbria, previously known as Europe. "What are your intentions toward our daughters?"

 

Arthur swallowed his mouthful and dapped his lips with a linen napkin. "I intend to spend a day with each lady, I will get to know her, and she me. We will share three meals and all the time in between, about ten candlemarks. At the end of the week, once I've met with everyone, I will make a decision."

 

Olaf shook his head with a hearty chuckle. "Prince Arthur, I believe you misunderstood me. I refer not to your plans but your intentions; are they honorable?  Am I able to entrust you with my daughter's purity and have it returned untarnished?"

 

Arthur blushed a bit at the nature of the question. "Of course, King Olaf. I am nothing if not honorable, I am a knight, governed by the codes of chivalry. You may ask any woman in my employ, my intentions are honest and noble."

 

"Arthur won our chivalry tournament a few weeks back," Uther added. "He rescued a girl who'd fallen overboard."

 

Merlin scowled. Oh sure, she'd fallen. What kind of imbecile spontaneously fell over a three foot railing?  She had been assaulted, that's what'd happened.

 

Arthur, sensing her righteous indignation, rolled his eyes. This wasn't about her, this was about him, and selling him like a luxury yacht to the land kings.  (Of course it's streamlined, goes up to 30 knots an hour, durable too. Oh yes Arthur is perfectly virile, and fertile too. Would you like to test the equipment?)  Not that it made much of a difference; even if Arthur was dim-witted, crass, and hunchbacked, girls would still be queuing up to marry him. After all, he was the world's most eligible bachelor.

 

Lot chimed in with another question, reminding him his interview was far from over. "Prince Arthur, in your opinion, what is the right way to treat a woman?"

 

"With respect and kindness," Arthur answered readily. "Being gentle and caring for her needs, but firm when necessary."

 

Merlin thought it sounded more like he was describing his relationship with his favorite mare, Llamrei, than any female she knew of. Though the other girls around the room were completely enraptured and melted at his words. They thought they were in for a romantic wooing. Ha! Arthur didn't have a single romantic cell in his body.

 

"How many children do you foresee?" Rodor asked.

 

Arthur personally wasn't too keen on them. Children were so messy and loud and annoying. He definitely did not have the patience for those brats. Whomever he married, he'd just foist them off on her. "All I need is a son, to be my heir and continue the Pendragon name. So ideally one, though I'm not against having a spare."

 

Using the pretense of serving him more purple soup, Merlin leaned close to him. "What do you have against children?"

 

"They're gross," he shot back. "Not my cup of tea."

 

Merlin snorted.  “Then I do not envy the woman you marry.”

 

“Hey!  I—“

 

Pellam cleared his throat loudly to get his attention.  “So, Prince Arthur.  What kind of woman do you seek as the future mother to your children?”

 

Arthur had to rein himself in to prevent the incredulous look from slipping onto his face.  Why did these people think he knew what kind of woman he wanted?  He’d obviously know when he found her, so it was useless asking about her beforehand.  This dinner required too much brainpower.  Was it too much to ask to just enjoy his food in peace?

 

The king was still waiting expectantly.  Arthur began spouting generic codswallop, “She must be compassionate, caring, and patient. Good with children, a hands-on parent.  Dedicated, responsible, knows when to have fun and when to be strict.”

 

The man nodded.  “My Clara is wonderful with children.”

 

Arthur glanced at his daughter.  She was barely more than a child herself.  Clara blushed and ducked her head when she found herself the subject of the prince’s scrutiny. 

 

Uther inclined his head when he noticed Arthur looking.  “She’s younger than I’d expected,” he remarked quietly.

 

Arthur frowned. “Father, she’s ten years old.  I’ll babysit her for a day, but I refuse to make any sort of advances; it’s just wrong.”

 

The king made a non-committal noise.  “I doubt she’d be able to bear children for quite a few years, especially not with that skinny frame.    I suppose it’s for the best.”

 

“What was her father thinking, sending her here?”

 

Uther raised his eyebrows.  “Why politics, of course.  His kingdom’s economy has been doing terribly.  He’s desperate.”

 

Arthur shook his head.  “Desperate enough to peddle his only daughter off to a prince he’s never met.  Why aren’t we sending help to his kingdom?”  As the words left his mouth, Arthur already knew the answer.

 

“That’s not our responsibility. It’s up to the land kings to take care of their people, and we take care of the kings.  Don’t worry Arthur, our prosperity will eventually trickle down to the people.” Uther turned away to speak to the person sitting on his other side, signaling the end to their conversation.


	21. Crime and Punishment Pt. 2

**Chapter 21 – Crime and Punishment Pt. 2:**

 

After dinner, the guests were led on a tour around Uther’s ship.  Arthur escaped to his old room, knowing his father would lecture him the next morning about being anti-social.

 

Arthur hadn’t lived in this room for years, yet it was spotlessly clean, everything where he’d left it.  He picked up a book and tried reading it.  Ten minutes later, he realized he hadn’t understood a word, and slammed the book back down.  Arthur was restless.  He paced the room, organized his desk and messed it up again, poked at the fire place, changed his shirt, paced some more.

 

By the time Merlin let herself in, Arthur was slumped in a chair, face pressed to the table.

 

“It wasn’t that bad was it?”

 

Arthur banged his head against the wood repeatedly.  “Yes.  It was.  I hate all of them.”

 

Merlin dropped into the other chair.  “Stop that, you’re making your headache worse.”

 

He picked his head up and cursed Merlin’s wisdom.

 

“You can’t possibly hate all of them,” she carried on.  “What about that girl you were sitting next to?  You seemed pretty friendly.”

 

Arthur glared at her blearily.  “That was my _cousin_ , Mithian.”

 

“Oh.” Merlin blinked owlishly.  “Then why is she here?”

 

“My father thinks inbreeding is a myth.”

 

Merlin snorted.

 

Arthur waggled a threatening finger in her direction.  “You won’t be laughing when my children come out with three eyes and webbed toes!”

 

She shook her head.  “I pity the woman who gets saddled with you for the rest of her life.”

 

Arthur chose to overlook the insult.  He sat up straight, suddenly serious and took Merlin’s hand.  “You gotta help me, Merl.  How am I supposed to entertain these girls for a whole week?  You’re a girl, what do girls like to do?”

 

She pretended to ponder his dilemma.  Finally she decided, “Girls like hair braiding and picking flowers. Oh, and tea parties.”

 

He paled visibly.  “ _What_?”

 

Merlin held a straight face for all of two seconds before she burst into giggles.  “You should have seen your expression!”

 

Arthur scowled.  “ _Mer_ lin,” he whined.  “Really though.  I don’t know what to do.”

 

Still chortling, Merlin fetched a page of parchment to jot notes on.  She paused, quill poised, eyebrows perched expectantly. “Well. Go on, brainstorm.  Do you need to pace around a bit to get your little noggin started?”

 

Arthur had half risen out of his seat, but froze when he heard her words.  “ _No_ , I do not.”  He tried to cover up the movement by marching over to his bed and sinking into the mattress.  “And I’ll have you know that I’m full of good ideas.”

 

By the end of an hour, they’d sketched out a basic schedule for Arthur’s week of torture.  Everything else was up to his own ingenuity and charm.

 

" _Meeeer_ lin."  Arthur laid spread-eagled on the bed on his back, his head lolling over the edge, watching her upside-down. "I'm hungry."

 

"That's nice, Arthur."

 

" _Mer_ lin," he whinged.

 

"What?"

 

"Get me food."

 

"No. Get it yourself."

 

" _Pleeeease_?"

 

"No."

 

"Great thanks. You're the best, Merlin. Just a pastry for me, but you can get yourself something, too."

 

Grumbling, Merlin left the room, but in truth she was kind of peckish herself. She slinked through the deserted hallways, ducking in and out of concealed servants’ passages. It was late—almost midnight—yet the kitchen still buzzed with activity.  Dishes had to be washed, leftovers dealt with, and the next day’s meals planned. 

 

Merlin didn’t know much of Uther’s kitchen staff personally, but she was a familiar enough face that they gave her no trouble as she passed through. She liberated a pastry from a nearby tray and headed to the pantry, knowing Arthur would want jam with it.

 

The pantry was an enormous store room with rows and rows of shelves, crates, jars, and sacks full of food items.  Merlin took a lamp and lit it, casting a small halo of light in the dark room. She had a notion the jam would be with the rest of the preserves, though not a clue where that would be.

 

Merlin prowled down the aisles, on the lookout for a cluster of glass containers.  She was halted by the hollow reverberation of a pan dropping.  Merlin held her breath, heart fluttering and ice shooting through her veins.  It was too late to hide, the lantern shone like a beacon in the vast blackness of the pantry.  “W-who’s there?”

 

Merlin edged toward where she’d heard the noise, light held out in front of her like a weapon.  “Come out, I know you’re there.”  At least she sounded more confident that she felt.

 

She crept closer, lamp illuminating and throwing shadows on the tall shelves. Merlin’s eyes darted over every surface, seeking out any anomaly.  A whimper came from around the corner and through the gaps in the shelf, she saw a dark shape move.  Merlin dashed into the next aisle.  “Stop!”

 

At the end of the row were two figures, one much smaller than the other.  Merlin cautiously approached them until she could see them clearly.  It was a frail young woman, pale and thin, her shabby dress swamping her trembling frame.  Clutching the woman’s skirts was a little girl, whose eyes were wide and frightened.  They were stowaways.

 

The three of them stared at each other for a long moment.  The woman broke the pregnant silence by croaking out a single word.  “ _Please_ ,” she whispered.

 

Merlin put her hands up.  “I won’t hurt you,” she promised. “I can help you.  My name is Merlin.”

 

“Elsa.” The woman indicated herself then gestured to her daughter.  “Freya.”

 

Merlin smiled, hoping to put them at ease.  “I can get you out.  You’ll be safe on _The Dragon’s Call_.”

 

Elsa stared at her, hope lighting up her drawn features.  “How?”

 

“I’m the prince’s advisor.  They won’t question me,” _hopefully_ , her mind supplied. “We’ll say you’re a guest.”

 

“But the prince—“

 

“He’s not like his father.  He’ll protect you,” Merlin vowed.  “Trust me?”

 

Elsa nodded jerkily.  “We have nothing to lose,” she said bitterly.

 

///

 

They waited at the door for the coast to be clear. Merlin peeked through the crack while Elsa and Freya waited anxiously behind her. One of the maids paused in front of the door, blocking out Merlin’s line of sight.

 

“We can’t leave yet,” the girl said to a friend.  “Cook thinks there’s a stowaway on board.  She just sent Mackenzie to get the guards.”

 

Merlin turned to Elsa, alarmed.  “We have to get you out, now.”

 

Elsa shook her head sadly.  “They’ll be on the lookout now.  No, take my baby, get her to safety first.  They won’t be searching for a child.”

 

Merlin searched her eyes and relented.  Elsa transferred the little girl into her arms. "This is Lady Merlin, sweetheart. She's going to take good care of you, okay?  You're going to go with her right now. You'll see mummy soon. Mummy loves you Frey-Frey."

 

Freya smiled angelically.  “I love you too mummy.”

 

Elsa choked back a sob.  She pressed fervent kisses to her daughter’s face. “You’re a good girl, Frey.  Mummy’s so proud of you.”

 

Merlin gripped Elsa’s arm. “I’ll come back for you.  I’ll get you out.”

 

Elsa nodded.  “Of course, Merlin.  Thank you so much.”

 

Merlin stepped out of the pantry into the brightness, cradling Freya close to her body.  She strode purposefully toward the door.

 

“Merlin!”

 

She stiffened and turned around slowly.  It was one of the assistant cooks, Gertrude.

 

“I’d forgotten you went in there.  Did you happen to see anything at all?”

 

Merlin shook her head.  “No! No one, nothing at all.”

 

Gertrude shrugged good naturedly and came closer.  “Who’s this little lady?”

 

“Ah.  This is...one of Gaius’ patients.  She was fussing earlier so I thought she’d like something to eat,” Merlin invented quickly.

 

“I remember when my own were that age,” Gertrude remarked fondly.  “I expect what with the prince getting married soon, we’ll have our own little prince or princess any day now.”

 

Merlin laughed weakly.  “I’m not sure if I’m ready for another little terror.  Excuse me, but I must be going now, good night Gertrude.”

 

She all but fled back to Arthur’s room.  Merlin threw open the door, burst in, then locked it securely behind her.

 

"Finally!  What took you so—“ Arthur stopped. "That's not a pastry."

 

“Arthur please. I need you to watch her for me while I get her mother,” Merlin explained, out of breath from carrying Freya up all those stairs.  She set the girl down and knelt so they were eye to eye.  “Freya, this is Prince Arthur. He's going to stay with you while I get your mummy. Be good for him. I’ll be right back.”

 

She sprinted right out the door again.

 

///

 

As soon as the door shut, the kid started wailing.  Arthur stared at her, alarmed.  Just great. 

 

“Hey, shhhh.  No, don’t cry.” He held out his hands, unsure if he should touch her or not.

 

The little girl cried harder.

 

“Shhh. Talk to me, come on.”

 

Children, it turned out, were much harder to coax than horses or hounds.

 

He tried again. “It's all right I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Arthur. I'm Lady Merlin's _boyfriend_.”

 

The word made her giggle.  She sniffled, but stopped bawling for the moment.

 

“I told you my name, so now you have to tell me yours.” Arthur crouched on the ground so they could see each other.  “Please?”

 

“Freya,” she said quietly.

 

Arthur gave her a winning smile. “That’s a lovely name.  And how old are you Freya?”

 

She held up five little fingers. Arthur thought she was rather tiny for a five year old.  Weren’t they supposed to be bigger by that age?

 

Freya seemed to have warmed up to him. "Are you really a prince?"

 

"Yes I am."

 

"Is Lady Merlin a princess?"

 

"I hope she will be one day,” Arthur told her honestly. “But don't tell her I said that, it's a secret."

 

Freya nodded solemnly. She zipped up her lips and threw away the key. Then she opened her mouth again to yawn widely.

 

“I think it’s time for bed.”  Arthur swung her up into his arms and tossed her in the air.  Freya laughed and shrieked, limbs flailing as she was airbourne.  She was eventually deposited on the mattress, hair in wild tangles but a bright smile present on her tiny face.

 

The instant Arthur dropped into his bed, Freya squirmed to his side and settled herself there.  Within minutes, her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep.  Arthur had the vague idea he should wait for Merlin to return, but he soon forgot it as he was lulled to sleep.

 

///

 

Merlin sprinted back to the kitchen, a feeling of foreboding weighing in her stomach. Gathered outside the kitchen was a throng of people; cooks, assistants, scullery maids, and delivery boys crowded the hallway. Merlin slipped past them, terrified of what she would find.

 

Uther stood, cold and overbearing, his presence like a storm cloud, charging the air with stifling discomfort and putting everyone on edge.  His knights swarmed everywhere. Two of them walked past, holding Elsa, who was limp in their grip.  She was clearly terrified, trembling in her threadbare dress, but still keeping a level of composure that Merlin couldn't help but admire.

 

As they drew past her, Elsa made eye contact, a hopeful, questioning look on her face.  Merlin nodded, mouthing ‘ _safe_ ’.  Happy tears sprang to her eyes, and Elsa’s lips formed the words ‘ _thank you_ ’.

 

Merlin couldn’t bear to see anymore.  She wasted no time dashing back to get help.  When Merlin returned to Arthur's room, she was confronted with the most adorable vision ever: Freya and Arthur curled up together on his huge bed, both of them fast asleep.

 

She took a minute to enjoy the peace, knowing she'd soon have to shatter the picture-perfect moment. Merlin gently pried Freya off of Arthur and tucked the blankets around her little sleeping form. Then she urgently shook the prince awake. "Arthur, you need to get up."

 

He sat up immediately, warrior training or something like that. Though somehow, he was never that quick in the mornings. "What happened?  Where's her mother?"

 

Merlin sighed. "They arrested her. I didn't get back in time."

 

Arthur patted her shoulder. "It's not your fault. Why did they arrest her?"

 

"She's a stowaway. I wanted to bring her back to _the Dragon_ ," she explained.

 

"A _stowaway_? Then she was a criminal."

 

Merlin rounded on him, anger in her eyes. "How could you say that? She wasn't doing any harm. And she was so thin and pale. All she was trying to do was stay alive and feed her daughter. I see no crime."

 

Arthur put his hands up. "I just meant she broke the law so she must suffer the consequences. She knew that. She'll get a fair trial and as a first time offender, she'll be out with nothing but a slap on the wrist."

 

Merlin shook her head. "But I told her I'd get her out and then I let her down. And when she saw me just now? She was grateful! Grateful when I did absolutely nothing when she got caught."

 

Arthur wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Oh hush. Stop blaming yourself. Now I'm going to go down and inquire about her, see if I can pull some strings and get her out. You stay up here with Freya and get some rest."

 

Merlin let some of the tension in her body bleed out. She laid her cheek on Arthur's shoulder. "Thank you. For doing this. I know you don't have to."

 

"But that's where you're wrong, Merlin. I do have to do this. It's my duty to protect these people. And I'll do whatever I can to help them," he declared.

 

She smiled wide and proud. "This is why I know you'll make an excellent king. You're a good man, Arthur."

 

Arthur dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I'm glad you think so. I really must go now. I'll wake you when I get back."

 

He extricated himself with difficulty, reluctantly leaving behind the warm cocoon of his bed. Merlin wiggled like a fish into the indent he left, reaching down to unlace her shoes as she went.  The last thing Arthur heard as he left the room was the sound of Merlin's boots hitting the floor and her head hitting the pillow.

 

///

 

Arthur stood in the cold corridor, still shell shocked from his conversation with the king.

 

He'd raced straight down to the dungeons, ready to fight his father tooth and nail for the woman's freedom. Uther had just laughed in his face and brushed him off. True, his father wasn't in a good mood with him, but Arthur thought he deserved more than that. He'd dogged the king's footsteps, pestering him the whole way until Uther burst out, "She's dead! The woman is dead. I just had her executed before you came. Now go back to your room and stop being childish."

 

Arthur stared at his father uncomprehendingly. "Dead? But you just caught her."

 

"Yes," Uther enunciated slowly as though his son was being particularly thick. "It's known as efficiency.  She committed a crime so she received her due."

 

"But she stole some food, that doesn't warrant a death sentence," Arthur argued. "What happened to a punishment fitting the crime?"

 

"Those laws are merely suggestions, loose guidelines if you will," Uther said dismissively. "Mercy is perceived as weakness. It would do you well to remember that."

 

Arthur gaped. He felt like the man in front of him was a complete stranger and not the sporadically pleasant man he'd grown up with.

 

He continued, obvious to his son's disbelief. "And if we did it your way, the traditional punishment for a food thief was to have the felon gorge themselves to death. Which is messy and tedious and we don't have the provisions to spare at the moment."

 

If Arthur wasn't a man, he'd have broken down crying at this point.  Instead he asked, "And you don't find that extreme at all?"

 

Uther looked at him oddly. "No. Though that is enough with the silly questions. You have a busy week ahead. You should get some sleep. Good night, Arthur."

 

He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, then turned on his heel and marched off.

 

Arthur looked on blankly. He couldn't believe how grossly he'd misjudged his father. It'd taken eighteen years for him to see Uther clearly for the tyrant he was. The ramifications were only beginning to dawn on him. And with each second that ticked by, his disillusionment grew, proliferating into an angry beehive that cluttered his mind with doubt.

 

Arthur stumbled back into his room in a daze. Though when he arrived at his door, he had absolutely no memory of how he'd gotten there. He managed to turn the knob and enter. Arthur made it half way to the bed before spontaneously keeling over into a conveniently placed chair.

 

"Arthur? Arthur?" It took him a few seconds to register Merlin's insistent voice and hands shaking him. The distress written across her face snapped him out of his stupor.

 

"My father is evil," he said wonderingly. "I can't believe it took me this long to realize."

 

The concern was evident in Merlin's eyes. "Have you gone mad?" She glanced at the bed and lowered her voice. "Where's Elsa?"

 

Arthur's brow wrinkled in confusion, then smoothed out again in understanding. "I was too late," he said mournfully. "My father killed her."

 

Merlin's face crumpled. She didn't ask for details, just buried her face in her hands. "It's my fault," Merlin lamented. "I should have brought her out, I should have—“

 

"There's nothing you could have done—“

 

"Then I should have tried harder," she snapped.

 

Arthur shook his head. "No. It was me. If I'd only gone faster, been there sooner... No!" he suddenly shouted. "This isn't helping anybody. It's neither of our faults.  We didn't know.  What we can do is put all our efforts into helping this little girl. We owe her that much."

 

Merlin appeared uncertain.

 

Arthur coaxed in a gentler voice, "Let go, Merlin. We couldn't have prevented it and it's in the past now. That guilt will only weigh you down. Let it go."

 

Merlin sucked in a deep breath. She held it and let it out. Visibly deflated, she finally whispered, "Okay."

 

Merlin half fell into Arthur's open arms. He held her close and stroked her hair. "When did you get so wise?" she wondered.

 

"When I met you, of course," he replied easily.

 

" _Where's my mummy_?"

 

Arthur and Merlin whirled around, flinching apart on reflex. Freya was sitting up, sheets pooled around her, watching the two of them with wide guileless eyes.

 

"Where's my mummy?" she repeated.

 

They exchanged a long look.  Merlin went to Freya, scooping her up and placing the little girl on her lap so they could face each other.

 

"Freya." Merlin took a deep breath. "Your mummy loved you very very much. Did you know that?"

 

Freya nodded.

 

Merlin shut her eyes, mustering up the courage to shatter this little girl's entire world. "Freya, I'm sorry. Your mother is dead," she said in a rush.

 

Freya didn't seem to understand. "So when will my mummy be here?"

 

"She won't be coming here." Merlin had to force the next few words out of her throat. "She isn't coming back."

 

"Never ever?" Freya's eyes were starting to water. "Where did she go?"

 

"She went to Avalon, Freya. She didn't want to leave, but she had to." Merlin struggled to find the right words. "I'm sorry—“

 

"No!" Freya screamed. "I want her now!  Where is she? I want my mummy! Give her back to me!"

 

She twisted and writhed and shouted. Merlin could only look on, heartbroken for this tiny soul who'd known loss too soon in her short life. Freya resisted all of Merlin's efforts to soothe her; the volume of her wails didn't change in the face of any amount of crooning, singing, petting, tickling, rocking, murmuring, and pleading. Seeing Merlin was at her wit's end, Arthur took a turn trying to console Freya. She didn't quiet down until she had cried herself into exhaustion nearly an hour later. Merlin and Arthur collapsed immediately, determined to get some rest while they could.

 

What felt like mere minutes, but must have been a few hours later, Arthur was woken by someone's persistent knocking.

 

"Will you get that?" Merlin grumbled. She reached over and shoved Arthur out of bed, then burrowed deeper into her pillow.

 

Arthur dragged himself to the door. It was a servant, sent by the steward, whom Arthur had requested wake him two hours after sunrise. Even with the alarm-servant, Arthur barely made it to breakfast on time. He knew he must look monstrous from lack of sleep and his temples were already throbbing.

 

Clara was already outside the dining hall, waiting for him. Arthur chose for them a small table in the corner, away from all the other obscenely-early-rising patrons enjoying their breakfasts. They suffered through awkward small talk, Arthur punctuating each response with a yawn. Clara was sweet but extremely shy and clearly nervous. When their food was served, Arthur wolfed it down at a velocity previously unknown to mankind while Clara restrained herself to the speed limit of barely socially acceptable. They were finished in record time.

 

"I have a surprise for you. I hope you'll like it," Arthur told her.

 

She only nodded in response.

 

Half way to their destination, Arthur was halted by an all too familiar cry. He looked to Clara. "Do you mind if we take a detour?"

 

She shrugged. "Sure."

 

They entered Arthur's room and their ears were assaulted from the moment the door clicked open. Merlin sat at the table, desperately bouncing Freya on her knee, trying to entice her with breakfast. Freya was once again in the throes of a fit, arms and hands and feet lashing out, her face red from screaming abuse at a frazzled Merlin. Just as they came in, Freya's errant elbow knocked the bowl of porridge in Merlin's hand to the ground, joining the croissant, sliced ham, and fruit already littered there.

 

Arthur marched over and relieved Merlin of her burden. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked loudly over the renewed screeching.

 

Merlin shook her head.

 

Arthur apologetically held Freya back out to her. "Just for a second?"

 

Clara stepped forward. "I'll take her," she announced quietly.

 

"Thanks." Arthur had absolutely no qualms about handing off the little menace to her. He stepped outside to hail a servant and order a tray of food for Merlin. When he returned, it was to beautiful silence.  Merlin was slack jawed as well.

 

"How-?"

 

A genuine smile spread across Clara's face. "I have four little siblings at home and this works on them so..."

 

Merlin got up and enveloped Clara in a tight hug. "You're wonderful. Stay forever please."

 

Arthur agreed, "I don't know how you did it. She wouldn't respond to anything Merlin and I did. You must be some kind of miracle worker."

 

Clara was mollified by the praise. "It's nothing really," she insisted. "I can watch her if you want to take a break."

 

"Would you? That would be terrific, thanks so much," Arthur cut in before Merlin had a chance to refuse.

 

He manhandled her into a chair at the clean end of the table. Right on cue, a servant arrived with a tray of food. "Now eat," Arthur commanded.

 

Merlin obediently tore into a bun and put a large portion in her mouth. She chewed with deliberate slowness, exaggerating each chomp.

 

Clara joined her at the table and even managed to get Freya to eat a few bites. She seemed to particularly enjoy the strawberry preserves, so much so that she stuck her entire hand in it and rubbed it all over her face.  The two girls had to bathe Freya in the water basin with a pitcher of water.  After, Merlin went to speak with some woman down the hall and returned with her daughter's old, barely worn dress for Freya to wear. With her new clothes, hair braided and beribboned, and clean face, Freya didn't look too different from the other court children.

 

"She's skinnier," Arthur had to point out. "All those other brats are chubby."

 

" _Arthur."_

 

"They've got nothing on you, Frey. You're the prettiest girl on this ship—barring present company of course. Those other little girls won't know what hit them," Arthur said seriously.

 

Freya didn’t seem to know how to respond. “Okay Prince Arthur.”

 

Arthur just laughed and swung her into the air. They spent the rest of the day playing with Freya. Arthur dug out his old toys from a chest at the back of his closet, which entertained them for a while.  Merlin read fairytales out loud from a beautiful gilded storybook, with Arthur and Clara pitching in to play different voices.  When she reached the end, Freya demanded to hear it again.  And again.  Before they knew it, the sun was setting and it was nearly time for dinner.

 

“Join us?” Arthur pleaded.

 

Merlin shook her head.  “Can’t.  They’ll turn me away from the dining room, I’m not dressed right.”

 

“Then change,” he countered.

 

“All my dresses are in your room—Oh!” Merlin glanced at Clara and blushed.

 

“I know you two are together. It was kind of obvious,” Clara pointed out.

 

Arthur goggled at her, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Do you think my father knows?”

 

“Oh no,” she hastened to assure him. “I'm sure it's just a girl thing.”

 

Merlin chuckled awkwardly.  “I hope so. Or else Uther’s gonna kill me.”

 

Arthur turned on her, stony-faced.  “Don't joke about that.”

 

Merlin raised her eyebrows.

 

“Tell you later,” he deflected.  “Clara and I have to go, you’ll be fine on your own with Freya?”

 

Freya hadn’t fussed since that morning.  She’d been too distracted by all her new toys and playmates to recall her earlier distress. Now she was jumping on Arthur’s bed, wide smile present.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin assured him.

 

Arthur sealed their mouths together for a quick kiss.  “See you later.”  He went over to Freya and was met with a pillow to the face.

 

“I got you, evil dragon!” Freya crowed.  She bashed him a few more times with a bolster.  “Die!”

 

Arthur wrestled the cushion out of her hand.  He kissed her forehead and flicked her nose. “Be good for Merlin.” 

 

“Kay-kay.” She went back to bouncing and mussing up the bedclothes.

 

///

 

Dinner was a substantial improvement from breakfast.  Over the course of the day, Clara was able to relax and open up to Arthur.  During their meal, she spoke animatedly about her family and the estate where she lived. From what she revealed, Arthur was able to piece together Clara’s background.  Her father was the king of what had been Australia.  A series of droughts and storms had led to a massive crop failure, and the king was distraught.  There was a lot of pressure on her to charm Arthur and save her kingdom.

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Arthur promised.  “I won’t let your people go hungry.  And that is not conditional on our marriage.”

 

After dinner, Arthur delivered Clara back to her family’s suite.  Outside the door, he paused.  “I had a good time today, though I bet you had higher expectations.”

 

“No, it was great,” she asserted.  “Merlin was lovely and I miss my little siblings so playing with Freya was nice. I had a lot of fun.”

 

Arthur looked doubtful.  “I had all this stuff planned. We were going to go to the kennels and see the dogs and—“

 

“I'm allergic to dogs,” she interrupted.

 

“Oh.”  Arthur was briefly derailed. “Then I guess it's lucky we got sidetracked.”

 

Clara nodded.  “Good night Prince Arthur,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

 

Arthur kissed her hand.  “Good night, Princess Clara.”


	22. Boy and Girls

**Chapter 22 - Boy and Girls:**

 

When Arthur woke up the next morning, Merlin was already awake next to him.

 

"I was thinking about what you said the other day," she announced abruptly.

 

"Hm?"

 

"About us not being at fault for Elsa's death," she explained. "But I still feel responsible. We should do something. It's been bothering me."

 

"Me too," Arthur admitted. "I think we should bring Freya home. She must have a father or some sort of relatives."

 

Merlin chewed on her lip. "I asked her about that. She couldn't tell me where her family might be. I wouldn't know where to start looking."

 

"Her mother's body is still somewhere on board..." He trailed off, not giving voice to the rest of his thought, but the implication was clear.

 

Merlin made a moue of distaste but nodded slowly. "It's the only lead we have."

 

"I'll deal with it tonight," Arthur offered. Merlin said nothing; she certainly wasn't volunteering to wander around the morgue at night.

 

///

 

Arthur's girl of the day was Vivian. She was very pretty and very friendly. Too friendly. The last time Arthur told that story, Merlin had laughed at him and walked away. Vivian, on the other hand, was nodding attentively and giggling girlishly at his every word.

 

It didn't make sense until Vivian dragged Arthur back to her own rooms and started unlacing her bodice.

 

Arthur stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What are you doing?"

 

"Taking my clothes off," she replied matter-of-factly. "What does it look like?"

 

"But why?"

 

She seemed mildly irritated by his questions. "So you can bed me."  When he was unable to say anything to that, Vivian elaborated further.  "You know, when a man sticks his--"

 

"I know what it means," Arthur snapped. He took a step back as she approached him. "No, you got it wrong.  I don't want that."

 

Vivian put on a seductive smile. "Don't be shy.  None of the other boys took this much coaxing."

 

Arthur stopped retreating, feeling faint. "Others. There were others?  But you're a princess. You're not—you can't—before you're married?!—your future husband—?"

 

She shrugged easily. "He doesn't need to know. There's nothing wrong with having a little fun."

 

"Fun?" He spluttered. "But propriety and—and honor and—“ The shock and confusion had shattered his coherency.

 

Vivian tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "You mean you haven't—?

 

"Never.  And I won't until marriage. It's the proper thing to do," Arthur said stiffly.

 

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Listen to yourself. You need to live a little. Ignore society." A thought occurred to her. "That's why you haven't slept with your cute little advisor yet?"

 

Arthur absolutely did not blush when she said that. "You think she's cute?"

 

Vivian raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't say no to that mouth on my--"

 

Arthur cut her off there. "La la la. Really don't need to know."

 

///

 

Vivian easily shrugged off the rejection. They spent the rest of the morning just walking around and chatting. Vivian was easy to talk to, once she eased off the aggressive flirting. She was shameless and brazen but also open and honest and unexpectedly funny.

 

They ate a picnic lunch on the highest sun deck, taking in the cloud-veiled sunlight. After, Vivian scooted to sit by the railing, dangling her legs over the side, and Arthur joined her. They watched the people milling around  beneath them: servants rushing back and forth, couples taking leisurely strolls, and sailors moving about purposefully, pulling at this line and climbing up that. It was strange, watching all the movement swirl around them from this vantage point, seeing out from within the vortex, observing but not joining in.

 

Vivian liked people watching. She'd make up a life story for each of them before Arthur told her who they really were. The narratives grew more and more sordid and absurd. Vivian was convinced that old Lady Higgins used love potions to woo young sailors, and Lord Roger ran a opium den in his suite.

 

"Oh stop. She's a nice woman," Arthur said half-heartedly.

 

Vivian blew the hair out of her face. "Pfft. You say that about everyone."

 

"Because everyone is nice to me," he protested.

 

"Of course they are, Arthur. You're the crown prince and the future king," she replied, barely keeping the sarcasm from coloring her tone.

 

"Fine then. They're nice to Merlin too."

 

Vivian arched her manicured eyebrows. "Only when you're there. Either that or she's just a charmer." She waggled her eyebrows. "I really want to meet this girl."

 

"No," Arthur said firmly. "Absolutely not."

 

Vivian pouted but moved on. She jerked her chin in the direction of some unsuspecting young man. "Hey look at that one, brown hair, green shirt, pert backside?"

 

Arthur squinted as the man rounded the corner and his face came into view. "That's Galahad, one of my younger knights."

 

"I'd snog him. For sure. Look at those chiseled cheekbones. And that scruffy jaw line. I want to rub my face on it." Vivian fanned herself.

 

By the time Galahad walked away, Vivian had already found some new eye-candy to gush about. When she finally gave up the man watching, they laid back, turned their eyes to the clouds, and whiled away a few hours with idle small talk until dinner.

 

After they parted ways for the night, Arthur found that he'd grown quite fond of Vivian. She was definitely very different from Arthur himself and from anyone he'd ever met. It made for an interesting day and he was glad he managed to make a new friend out of it.

 

//

 

"—then she just started taking off her clothes—“

 

Merlin was laughing uncontrollably. "So you just freaked out," she guessed.

 

"Well yes," Arthur said, affronted.

 

"And you asked her—?"

 

"I asked her what she was doing."

 

Merlin laughed harder.

 

"What?" Arthur was regretting telling her about his day.

 

"You're so naive, Arthur. It's kind of adorable," she told him, more fond than mocking.

 

He pouted. "Yeah? Well at least I get hit on. It's not like you've ever been propositioned before."

 

Arthur glanced at the strange expression on Merlin's face and his eyes widened.

 

"My god, you have. And you didn't tell me! Who was it?"

 

Merlin put her hands up, laughing. "Listen to yourself, you’re such a teenage girl.  And I'm not telling you who it was. You overreact."

 

Arthur's mouth dropped open in outrage. "I do not!" He caught himself. "Fine. Then tell me if he was ugly.  I bet he was ugly."

 

"What?" Merlin looked at him incredulously. "Why do you assume that?"

 

Arthur waved her question  aside. "Just tell me. More or less good looking than me?"

 

"More," she deadpanned, "A lot more."

 

He narrowed his eyes. "Liar."

 

"Well guess what? It doesn't matter because I said no," Merlin said matter-of-factly.

 

"Of course you did," Arthur replied snottily. "Only loose women do that kind of stuff." After a moment he added, "And Vivian."

 

"I'm glad you don't think I'm a loose woman," Merlin replied dryly.

 

//

 

"Merlin!" Arthur tore into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He raised a triumphant fist. "I got it!"

 

Merlin shook her head. She swore he was such a child sometimes. "And what exactly did you get?"

 

Arthur dropped an amulet in her lap. He pointed at it and stage whispered, "I got that. I snuck past the guards—“

 

"The guards that are under your employ?" Merlin interjected.

 

He carried on as if he hasn't heard her speak. "—picked the lock—“

 

Merlin frowned. "Which you obviously have keys to—"

 

"—stealthily made my way through the dark—“

 

"Why are you creeping around on your own ship?"

 

Arthur shut his mouth with an audible snap and glared at her. "This is why I can't tell you stories. You don't listen."

 

Fearing he'd stomp into the corner and sulk like the child he was, Merlin took a fistful of Arthur's shirt and reeled him backwards until he sat down next to her. "I'm listening now. But can you cut to the chase?"

 

"As I was trying to say earlier." His exaggerated cough was thick with accusation. "I found this amulet with Elsa's possessions next to her body in the morgue. So it belonged to her and it's got all these symbols and wiggly lines that might mean things."

 

Merlin inspected the intricate carvings pressed into the metal. "I've never seen any of these runes before. Not even this big one." The rune dominating the pendant had three curving legs radiating from a center.  It felt familiar, but at the same time, Merlin felt sure she'd never laid eyes on it before.

 

Merlin spent the next day ensconced in the ship's library. She wasn't surprised that after spending an entire day leafing through nearly a hundred books, she was no closer to understanding the symbol on the amulet. Uther would have long since censored any information he didn't want people reading. The haste with which the king had executed Elsa led Merlin to believe Uther was hiding something big.

 

//

 

Arthur in the meantime had a date with Ella, one of the twins. From the start, she was perfectly nasty to everyone else, but simpering and sickly sweet to Arthur. Ella snapped at the server who brought them breakfast, making the poor girl cry because her coffee was slightly lukewarm.

 

After that fiasco, Arthur gave Ella a tour around the Dragon.  She seemed bored the entire time; her facial expression set in a permanent scowl. Ella perked up however, when Arthur mentioned the royal coffers.  He gestured at it in passing and saw her eyes light up with greed.  Arthur led her away but the damage was done. Girls like that only wanted one thing in a husband: a big wallet.

 

It was exponentially worse when Ella began to make a concerted effort. She batted her eyelashes furiously and bared a toothy grin. “Oh, Prince Arthur,” she said breathily.

 

Arthur tried his best to ignore her clumsy flirting, but she persisted. Arthur was subsequently subjected to a thorough analysis of all the ways they were compatible. “So I’m a princess and you’re a prince.  It’s perfect.  And I’m rich, and you’re rich too.  See, that’s another one.  And well I’m gorgeous, and you’re…you’re passable I guess.”

 

When all of this still failed to capture Arthur’s attention, Ella decided to resort to something more drastic.

 

They were passing by the library when Ella tripped over nothing, fake-swooned, and fell dramatically, expecting her gallant prince to catch her. Except said gallant prince had been looking the other way and was definitely not expecting a girl to suddenly come crashing into him. As a result, Ella bowled Arthur over, sending him careening to the ground and herself flopping gracelessly on top of him. There was a muffled pop! and Arthur grunted in pain.

 

Merlin came flying out of the library after hearing the commotion. "What's happening? Arthur? Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

 

Arthur batted her away with his good arm and managed to stand up on his own. His movement had toppled Ella to the ground, but they both pretended not to hear her indignant huff.

 

Arthur gingerly probed at his right shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the contact. "It's dislocated. I need you to pop it back in," he told her, his voice strained.

 

Merlin looked sickened by the prospect. "What? Can't you go to Aglain? I'm sure he'd do it better and not cripple you for life."

 

He rolled his eyes and joked weakly. "C'mon Merlin. I'm in pain here."

 

His face had gone pale and his jaw was clenched tightly, but it was the hiss of pain that escaped that convinced her. Merlin straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. "Okay. Fine. I'll do it. Just don't blame me if I break you."

 

"You can't break me," he scoffed. "Now help me lay down."

 

Merlin helped lower him to the ground into a supine position and knelt on his right.

 

"Take my arm," he instructed. "Gently!"

 

She put her hands on his hand and elbow. "Okay?"

 

Arthur responded with a jerky nod. "Now slowly bring it up."

 

Merlin rotated his arm out wards, eyes trained on Arthur's face. She tried to distract him by rambling on about her fruitless morning. Arthur only grimaced, sweat beading at his temples.  When his arm could go no further, she carefully rolled it the other way, bringing Arthur's hand toward the opposite shoulder. Merlin thought she heard the grinding of bone as the joint slipped back into place. Arthur cried out briefly, body tensing all over, before relaxing and slumping boneless on the corridor floor.

 

"You did it," he murmured when he caught his breath.

 

Merlin was surprised. "I guess I did!"

 

Arthur chuckled at the gobsmacked look on her face. He sat up in one swift motion and hugged her with his good arm. "I knew you could." Arthur pressed a fleeting kiss to her cheek and stood up. "I'm going to have Aglain check it over."

 

He glanced at Ella. He'd almost forgotten she was there. Ella seemed a few seconds away from a full-blown tantrum for being ignored.

 

"Ah, Ella are you all right? Perhaps we ought to have Aglain take a look at you too." Arthur offered her his most charming smile.

 

Sufficiently mollified, Ella took the hand he offered and dusted herself off. She cut Merlin out, leaving no room for her to walk beside them. Merlin trailed behind, but Arthur made an effort to continue talking to her, which caused a childish pout to appear on Ella's face.  

 

“Where’s Freya?” Arthur asked over his shoulder.

 

“I left her with your sister. They’re getting a set of clothes made.” While she spoke, Merlin raised her eyebrows in Ella’s general direction, questioning.

 

Arthur twisted his mouth, conveying exasperation and resignation.  Merlin smirked at his discomfort.

 

Aglain’s rooms were endlessly fascinating.  Dried herbs and plants hung from the rafters in neat bundles. Little glass jars sat huddled in wooden boxes, each carefully labeled with its name and volume. Along one of the tables, all types of scientific and medical tools were laid out and strapped down.  Everything was so curious and organized.

 

“Prince Arthur, Lady Merlin.  What can I help you with—“

 

Ella cleared her throat loudly.

 

Aglain looked to her in consternation. “Miss, are you unwell?  Perhaps a tonic for your—“

 

“Of course I’m unwell, you dimwit,” Ella said scornfully, “I just fell. Hard.”

 

Aglain opened his mouth to respond, but Arthur pulled the physician aside.  “Excuse her.  She’s a temporary guest.”

 

He gave Arthur a look of sympathy. “What can I do for you, sire?”

 

“Ella knocked me over in the hall earlier and I dislocated my shoulder.”

 

Immediately Aglain’s expression filled with concern.  “Let me see it,” he ordered, brisk and businesslike.

 

Arthur glanced at Ella who was making impatient noises and tapping her foot.

 

Aglain waved her off.  “This is more important. If something’s wrong with your shoulder, you could damage the muscles permanently.  That silly girl is fine if she can still complain.”

 

Arthur hid a smile and carefully slid his shirt off.  The physician inspected his shoulder, gently probing and questioning Arthur about how it felt.  “Exemplary. I would recommend ice, a sling, and stay off it for a few days, otherwise it’s fine. Did you relocate it yourself, sire?”

 

Arthur grinned at Merlin, who was already pulling out a sling for him from the closet.  “It was Merlin actually. She was brilliant.”

 

Aglain smiled at her. "My dear, you have the makings of a budding physician.”

 

Merlin blushed.  “You're too kind, Aglain.”  She brought the strip of cloth over to wrap up Arthur’s shoulder.  When the sling was tied off, Aglain produced a bag of ice and applied it to the joint.  In doing so, his sleeve slipped back, revealing a tattoo on his wrist.

 

Arthur caught the man’s wrist with viper-like speed. “This mark. Merlin, it’s that symbol you’ve been looking for.”  He stared at Aglain.  “What does this mean?”

 

The physician shook his head, looking meaningfully at Ella.  Arthur had once again forgotten she was there.  He badly wanted to just ditch her, but he knew his father wouldn’t let him hear the end of it when he found out.  Arthur sighed.  “Merlin and I will come back after dinner, two candlemarks past sundown.”

 

Aglain nodded.  “We will speak then."

 

 

 


	23. Questions and Answers

**Chapter 23 – Questions and Answers:**

 

Later that night, Merlin and Arthur returned to Aglain's rooms with Freya in tow. They had high hopes for answers and for a clearer picture of what Uther was hiding. Gaius, when asked, had responded in evasive half-truths, having been sworn to secrecy. Everyone else at court old enough to remember was even more tight-lipped, fearing the retribution if Uther were to find out. But if their hunch was right, Aglain would be able to answer more than one big question tonight. Though if he couldn't, they were at a dead end with the search for Freya's kin. Merlin wasn't sure if she'd be happy or sad to hear that.

 

Aglain was waiting for them, calmly crushing herbs at his table. "Good evening Prince Arthur, Lady Merlin, Freya."

 

Arthur locked the door securely while Merlin took a seat at the bench with Freya in her lap. The little girl waved at the physician. "Hi Aglain."

 

He favored her with a smile. "Hello little one."

 

Arthur joined them at the table. He pulled out Elsa's amulet from his pocket and showed it to Aglain. "This symbol. It's on your wrist. What does it mean?"

 

Aglain took the amulet, pulling spectacles on so he could study it closely. "It is called a triskelion, a symbol of the Druids. Where did you get this?"

 

"Freya's mother was wearing it when she died," Merlin explained. "Do you think she was a Druid?"

 

The older man nodded. "It's likely. Am I right to assume you are trying to return Freya to her family?"

 

"We are. Can you help us?"

 

Aglain nodded again. "My nephew still lives with the Druids. I'll write to him and ask."

 

Arthur played with the amulet in his hands, weaving the chain around his fingers then unweaving it again. "Who are the Druids? And what do they have to do with my father?"

 

Aglain steepled his hands and gazed steadily at Arthur. "The king has outlawed any mention of the Druids, punishable by death."

 

Arthur opened his mouth to reassure the man, but Aglain held up his hand to stop him.

 

"But I believe knowledge is worth the price. I will tell you what I know."

 

Aglain's eyes grew distant and his voice took on a rich timbre. "Druids, simply put, are the followers of the Old Religion. We are a peaceful people. Our lives are simple. For centuries, the Druids have been record keepers. We're unbiased, we remember History as it happened. Our knowledge is not written down, but spoken. Your father," he nodded at Arthur, "is on a crusade against science and learning. And he forces the people to remember the past the way he wants, not the way it happened.

 

"It is folly for a Druid to forget his knowledge and lie about History. Therefore we denounced the king and his ways. Uther hunted us down, slaughtered, burned, and drowned my people. The survivors fled far inland where the king has no dominion."

 

"And you?" Merlin asked softly. "How did you end up here?"

 

Aglain's expression was one of remembered pain and bitterness. "I was the high chieftain of all the Druidic tribes. One of my own men betrayed me to the king. But I am also one of the last surviving students of Master Talesin, who was a brilliant healer.  They kept me alive so I could take care of you, Prince Arthur."

 

Arthur's brow furrowed. "But why is my father so against knowledge and history?"

 

"The world has regressed, you are aware of this, young prince?"

 

He nodded.

 

"Before the Great Catastrophe, humans were incredibly advanced. So advanced that we can hardly fathom the extent. They had the ability to fly men to the moon in metal ships! But all of that is lost to us now. The kings say it was the technology that caused the Catastrophe and we are safer without it. To an extent that's true, but it's not the real reason. In general it is far more difficult to subjugate educated people. They can think and plan and scheme and fight back. If everyone learned that before the Catastrophe, most countries had some form of democratic government, the kings would be overthrown by the people in an instant. They wiped out knowledge out of greed."

 

Merlin tilted her head in thought. "Is that why Uther killed the Dragonlords?"

 

If Aglain was surprised she knew about them, it didn't show on his face. "Indeed. Uther had his eye on them for a while. They were a serious threat, sitting on all that knowledge.  He decided it would be safer if he just safeguarded it himself and disposed of the Dragonlords. So when the Queen died, he made his move under the guise of revenge."

 

Arthur looked stricken. It pained him to hear his father spoken of this way. Merlin figured they'd heard all they needed for now and  steered the conversation to safer subjects.

 

"So how do we find these Druids...?"

 

///

 

The next morning, as Arthur was entering the dining room, Uther, on his way out, gripped his son's arm.

 

"A word, Arthur," he said brusquely.

 

Arthur obediently followed his father behind the potted plant in the corner.

 

"Your charge today is Isolde?"

 

Though it was more statement than question, Arthur confirmed with a short nod. He kept his face neutral, refusing to flinch under the king's piercing, searching gaze.

 

"I received an interesting letter this morning from a contact of mine in --. It seems that her father, Donnchadn of Lyonesse, has struck gold." He paused to let the news sink in. "That power cannot go unchecked. What we need is a closer alliance. You will do your duty to this kingdom and you will marry his daughter."

 

Arthur had never felt more trapped by his crown. He'd known, of course, since as long as he could remember, that he was just a bartering piece. That his personal happiness meant nothing in the face of his kingdom's needs. He'd resigned himself to a loveless marriage and a bleak future.

 

But recently he'd allowed himself to feel hope. With Merlin's newly elevated status, he'd thought— Only to have his father reach in and pinch out that little flame of hope. Sometimes Arthur wished he wasn't such a good son or prince. Then he'd be able to turn his back on his kingdom without that sick swoop of guilt in his stomach.

 

But like a good boy, Arthur bowed his head and said dutifully, "Of course, my lord.”

 

“Don’t let me down, Arthur.”

 

///

 

Arthur was trying, he really was. He considered himself to be a sufficiently charming, good-looking individual. But Isolde wasn't having any of it. She didn't even blink when Arthur put on his most irresistible smile. And that smile worked on Merlin, and she _never_ took any of Arthur's bullshit.

 

Arthur had run out of things to do after Isolde had shut down every single one of his suggestions. She'd finally grudgingly agreed to go on a tour around the ship, and listened half-heartedly as Arthur strained to make the tastefully bland interior of his ship interesting.

 

"And here is the hall of portraits." Arthur gestured grandly and made jazz fingers to emphasize.  Then he felt lame and dropped his hands. "But I bet none of them are as pretty as you," he offered weakly.

 

Isolde rolled her eyes. "Save your breath." She stalked down the corridor without looking back.

 

Arthur sighed and followed.  "Have I mentioned how wonderful it is to see you again?"

 

Isolde stopped suddenly and Arthur nearly ran into her. She whirled around and glared at him. "Do you ever stop?"

 

Arthur shrugged and offered her a winning smile. He captured her hand in his. "I love you, Isolde."

 

She drew her hand back as if burned. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

 

"Marry me," Arthur declared grandly.

 

Isolde snorted. "No."

 

"I mean it." Arthur slid his mother's ring off his thumb, holding it out to her, and knelt on one knee.

 

Isolde blinked.  "Arthur," she said impatiently, "I know you don't want this. You don't actually feel anything for me. Don't do this. Think of your girlfriend. She's so sweet, you can't hurt her like this."

 

His heart clenched at the thought. Then he steeled himself, his father's words echoing in head. "Merlin means nothing to me," he said in a mechanical voice. "She never has. It was all for a bet," he invented wildly.  "She was so desperate that it was too easy. And even if I _was_ attracted to her at all, I would never marry her. What I felt for her is nothing compared to how I feel for you."

 

Arthur looked up in time to see Merlin's face fall. He hasn't heard her approach but from her expression, she must have heard all of it.  Their eyes met before Merlin turned and stormed away.

 

Arthur stood motionless, a cold numbness freezing his mind.

 

Isolde watched, disapproval writ clearly on her face. She turned to Arthur and her features softened when she witnessed the panicked look the prince was wearing. The soft expression quickly disappeared when Isolde realized Arthur was just standing there like a stunned deer. "You just destroyed the best thing that's ever happened to you. Do something, man!" She gave him a not-so-gentle shove. "Go after her!"

 

That jolted Arthur out of his stupor. He took off at a sprint, dodging servants and ducking past courtiers.

 

He skidded to a stop in front of Merlin and paused to catch his breath. Merlin raised an unimpressed eyebrow, a look she'd adopted from her Uncle Gaius.

 

"Merlin, I didn't mean it, you gotta believe me," he blurted out. "You know I care about you, you're my best friend, but my father wants me to marry Isolde and I have only until tonight to woo her so I lied and— I'm so sorry Mer."

 

Merlin sighed and looked away from his pleading face. "I know you didn't mean it," she said in a low voice. "I know you. I know exactly when you're honest and when you're not. It's not that."

 

Arthur impulsively grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Then what? Tell me. I'll give you anything you want," he promised.

 

Merlin heaved out another sigh. "Arthur, what are we playing at? What are we doing? This thing between the two of us isn't going to last. You know you can't marry me. You're going to end up with some perfect girl and live a fairy tale life that I won't have a part in. So what are we doing? This was always going to end in heartbreak.  And you know it will only be worse the longer this drags on."

 

Arthur stared at her incomprehensibly. "Are you breaking up with me?"

 

"Were we ever together to begin with?"

 

"Of course we were!"

 

"Then we shouldn't have been.  I'm not saying I regret it, but it has to end. I won't be able to let you go if this goes any further."

 

"Then you shouldn't have to," he argued back. "It's not your job to take care of me. We can make it work. I'll give up the throne!"

 

Merlin snorted at that. "Arthur, I know you. If you had to choose between Camelot and your happiness, Camelot would win every time." She put up her hand to stall further arguments. "I made my decision and you need to respect it. We need to take a break.  I can't deal with you right now. I'll find my own room on the _Dragon_ , and I'll be moved out in a few hours."

 

"You don't have to," Arthur insisted.

 

"But I do," she said with a sad smile. "I'll see you around Arthur."

 

Arthur stared after her retreating back, not entirely certain what just happened. But he did know one thing; he was a Pendragon, and Pendragons _always_ got what they wanted in the end.

 

//

 

Arthur was in a state of distraction for the next two days.  His mind was on edge, still puzzling through the enigma that was his best friend. And at the same time, he was anxiously waiting for Merlin to randomly appear and announce that she was wrong and beg for his forgiveness. Unsurprisingly, no such thing happened. Merlin could be as stubborn as he was sometimes. Arthur vacillated between feeling stung by the inexplicable rejection and angry, whether at himself, Merlin, or society, he wasn't sure. On top of that, he still had two more girls to deal with.

 

Arthur barely tolerated Princess Ana. She was far less abrasive than her twin; she was kinder and more genuine, but she didn't have Ella's shrewdness. In all honesty, Ana was a bit of an airhead, in addition to being vain, rather dimwitted, and a truly horrific singer. Arthur knew the last fact because he'd had the misfortune of being serenaded by said princess.

 

_"Your hair looks like gold silk,_

_and your skin is like honey and milk,_

_Your eyes are prettier than any lady's,_

_We should get married and have lots of babies..."_

 

Just a few days ago Arthur would have waited a few hours to tell Merlin and they'd laugh uproariously about it later. Now, just thinking about Merlin induced a physical ache.

 

Arthur was wincing his way through the seventh verse when Sir Owain came racing up to him. The prince barely concealed his sigh of relief when Ana cut off her wailing.

 

"Sir Owain."

 

"My lord." His words slipped out in a rush. "Nimueh's escaped. She stole a life boat early this morning. We already have people out looking for her."

 

Arthur swore. "Why didn't anyone catch this until now?"

 

Owain shook his head. "The dawn watch and mid-morning watch were both found dead. It was the noon watch that found them when he went to take over."

 

Arthur swore again. It was brilliant actually. Slip in a few minutes before the guard switched, kill the first set, wait a little, then kill the next watch too. It would buy you four hours until the patrol switched and people noticed. Especially with the life boats in an obscure corner of the ship that civilians usually never went near. Nimueh would have had more than enough time to get away. "How did she get out of the brig to begin with? And then across the ship unseen? _And_ with both _the Dragon_ and _Ygraine_ lookouts on duty?"

 

The knight looked uncomfortable. "Sir Leon wanted to tell you this himself—“

 

At Arthur's expectant look, he reluctantly continued.

 

"To escape undetected like that, Nimueh must have planted people or paid people off on both ships," he said quickly, as if it would soften the impact of his words.

 

Arthur scowled. He'd suspected as much. "Where's Leon?"

 

"In the brig, sire."

 

Arthur started to set off when he remembered Ana. She was standing off to the side, watching him with wide eyes.

 

"Ah, Princess Ana. I'm afraid I have to deal with this. If you would excuse me." He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "I'll see you at dinner."

 

Leaving her standing in the hallway, Arthur stormed off in the direction of his ship, a troubled expression on his face.

 

//

 

Dominating the door to the brig was an ostentatious symbol, made of two ' _x_ 's and a dot in between, and drawn with a greasy, pastel-like medium.  The symbol had also been found scrawled on the wall around the ship, a sick sigil hanging over three separate sets of slain guards.

 

"It feels distinctly like she's mocking us," Arthur commented with a scowl. "She broke out of the brig, took a leisurely stroll across the ship without being seen, killed a couple men, stole a lifeboat, and she _still_ had time for petty vandalism."

 

Leon tore his pensive gaze away from the marked door. "I'm not sure that her escape did her any good. We've sent out alerts to all the nearby kingdom ships and there isn't inhabited land for miles around.  And there's a storm coming.  She may not survive in that little lifeboat."

 

Arthur wished he could believe that, but it sounded like wishful thinking. "We'll see," was all he responded.

 

"And the traitors, sire?" Owain asked.

 

He grimaced. "Look into all of the men who were on watch this morning on _the Dragon_ and the _Ygraine_.  We'll review them tonight.  Involve as few people as possible until we know who to trust."

 

"Yes, sire," the two knights said in unison.

 

"And does anyone know what this symbol means?"

 

Leon frowned at the door. "I feel like I've seen it before..."  He shook his head.  "I'll ask Geoffrey to take a look at it."

 

Arthur nodded. "Make sure no one disturbs the evidence." He dismissed the men and unenthusiastically went to look for Ana.

 

//

 

Arthur spent the last day of his interminable week with Mithian.  Finally, he was able to let go, no longer feeling the pressure to bend over backwards in order to impress someone else.  He didn't need to charm Mithian; in fact, she'd likely be insulted if he tried to coddle her.  She was a fierce spirit and she always had to do things her way.

 

Therefore, he couldn't claim to be overly surprised when Mithian showed up that morning wearing trousers instead of skirts.  Before Arthur could comment, she cut him off.  "It's your fault I'm here, so I get to wear what I want."

 

He didn't quite follow the logic that had led her to that conclusion.  "How is it my fault?"

 

"I'm your cousin, Arthur.  Why the hell am I here?"

 

Arthur rolled his eyes.  "My father still thinks incest is a wives' tale.  If he didn't think we'd kill each other, Morgana and I would be married by now."

 

Mithian snorted.  "So what are we doing today?"

 

After throwing out hunting and horse riding, they ended up settling on archery.   Arthur had the squires drag out the targets and set them up on the practice field.  Mithian promptly challenged him to a shooting contest.

 

Arthur remembered one of his father's knights telling him as a boy, "There's no glory when you're up against a girl.  If you win, you don't have much to be proud of.  If you lose, you have a lot to be ashamed of."  But that was neither here nor there.

 

Archery was a relic of the past, for Mariners.  A bow and arrows had no practical use on a ship, having long since been replaced with more devastating weapons.  The art was kept around for the purpose of entertainment rather than protection.  While on the land, archery was much for useful for hunting deer or shooting an enemy from a distance away.  Mithian was undoubtedly more familiar with the skill, but that wasn't to say Arthur had no experience.  Uther had been dead set on his son mastering every discipline, and archery had been no exception.

 

Mithian was taking practice rounds with the fine longbow offered to her, making minute adjustments to compensate for the unfamiliar balance and weight of it.  When she was sufficiently prepared, she turned to Arthur, challenge glinting in her eyes.  "Ready?"

 

He nodded and responded with a patronizing gesture.  "Ladies first."

 

Mithian haughtily threw her hair over her shoulder and stalked up to the starting mark, a faded red line painted for the very purpose.  Raising the bow, she took aim, sucked in a deep breath, and let go.  Her arrow flew straight and true, the sharp head embedding itself in the not-quite-center of the target's innermost circle with a dull thunk.

 

Arthur let out the breath he'd been holding.  It would be hard to beat, but he had a competitive streak a nautical mile wide and he wasn't about to let this go.  He stepped up to the line and had just strung up his arrow when he felt cold steel against his throat.

 

He stood stock still and slowly lowered his bow.  

 

"Where is he?" a female voice growled in his ear.

 

"Isolde, what are you doing?" That was Mithian's voice, worried and uncertain, somewhere behind him.

 

"Stay out of this, Mithian," Isolde snapped.

 

Arthur had questions at the tip of his tongue, but held back on account of the sword currently biting into his neck.

 

"Where is he," Isolde repeated.  She had the presence of mind to pull the blade back to he could speak.

 

Arthur swallowed a few times.  "Who?"

 

"Tristan!"

 

"Who's Tristan?"

 

Isolde made an outraged hissing noise.

 

"I swear I don't know who he is," Arthur said quickly, forestalling her before she could do something drastic like chopping off his head.

 

Mithian spoke up, "Arthur's been with me all morning.  Whatever it is, he didn't do it."

 

The sword withdrew.  Isolde eyed him suspiciously but accepted his word.

 

"One of my knights has gone missing," she informed him curtly.

 

Arthur highly doubted _just_ a knight would evoke that kind of reaction from her, but he didn't push it.  "Where was he last seen?"

 

"Being taken away by your men."

 

Arthur frowned.  "I didn't order that."

 

"But your father...?" Mithian prompted.

 

Arthur turned on his heel and led the way down to the dungeon, determined to get to the bottom of this.  

 

//

 

Leon ran into them on the lower deck.

 

"Sire."

 

"What's happening, Leon?"

 

"The King caught me looking through the watch log for the Ygraine, so I had to explain everything to him.  Then he went looking for the traitor himself..."

 

Arthur winced and raked a frustrated hand through his hair.  There was nothing that incensed his father more than betrayal. And if he got his hands on one of Isolde's men...

 

"Where is the king?"

 

"On the Ygraine's upper deck—“

 

Arthur knew what that meant. He broke into a run, not waiting to see if the others were following.  They must have just missed the king, he thought as he ran past the practice fields, if they'd delayed only a little longer, their paths would have crossed.

 

A sizable crowd had gathered on the upper deck, port-side and around mid-ship.  Nobles, servants, and off-duty crew gathered in a loose circle.  In their midst stood Uther and a man bound in long, trailing chains. Near the two men rested the ship’s enormous anchor, streaked from oxidization and encrusted with patches of barnacles.

 

“Tristan!”

 

Isolde flung herself at the manacled man.  Arthur threw his arm out to hold her back, but Isolde just slipped out of his reach.  She darted through the crowd and flung herself at the manacled man.  Tristan braced himself as best as he could, but he was still knocked off balance by the force of Isolde's body slamming into his.

 

"Isolde," he said, warning her.

 

She only clung to him like a limpet.

 

"What is the meaning of this?" Uther demanded.

 

Arthur made his way to the center of the crowd to intervene. "My lord," he said loudly, diverting his father's attention from the couple. "What is this man being punished for?"

 

"This despicable traitor assisted in the escape of a dangerous prisoner," Uther replied coldly.

 

Arthur feigned surprise. "May I review the evidence that condemns this man in particular?"

 

Uther's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No, you may not. The crime was committed aboard the _Ygraine_ and therefore not under your sovereignty."

 

Arthur sighed inwardly.  "Then may I inquire as to his punishment?"

 

"Tied to the anchor and left as shark bait," the king announced.

 

(Shark baiting consisted of: step one, slash victim until bloody but still conscious; step two, lower victim into the ocean but leave the head out so screams are audible; and step three, watch as victim is viciously torn apart by sharks and/or other predators.)

 

The people around them actually had the audacity to cheer at Uther's barbarism.  They always got some sort of morbid enjoyment out of watching the corporeal punishment doled out to various criminals.  On Arthur's ship, the penalty was usually incarceration or death by hanging.  Not on the _Ygraine_ , though; there the inhabitants bayed for blood. Deaths were messy, violent, and drawn out.  Nothing made them happier than a good keelhauling or a gruesome drawing-and-quartering.

 

Uther's words had the blood leaving Isolde's pretty face. "No!" she shouted, abandoning all decorum as she began to curse and scream.  Arthur couldn't fault her; if it had been Mer—if it had been someone he cared about, he'd be railing and spitting abuse at the king much like she was.

 

"Princess Isolde!" Uther bellowed over her shouting.

 

She fell silent.

 

"What is this nonsense you are speaking? I must insist you see the court physician at once."

 

"I've not lost my mind," Isolde snapped. Remembering herself, she belatedly added, "My lord."

 

Uther frowned at her.  "Explain yourself.  Who is this man to you?"

 

"Sir Tristan is the First Knight of Lyonesse," Isolde said proudly.  "He was made my guardian for this trip in my father's stead. He is absolutely loyal to me, my father, and to you and Camelot, my lord."

 

"You are mistaken. He has betrayed you and he has betrayed Camelot," the king said gravely.

 

"No!" she objected vehemently. "He would never betray me! He is innocent!"

 

Uther continued as if she hadn't spoken out. "And so he must be sentenced to death—“

 

"I object!" Isolde screamed. "Lyonesse will go to war if you kill him!"

 

Arthur did not doubt that Isolde would follow through on her declaration should Tristan be harmed.  Uther, however, dismissed her words.  "Lyonesse would be foolish to start a war over a criminal."

 

Before anyone could respond, Isolde had drawn her sword and held the blade to Uther's throat, an echo of they way she'd similarly threatened the prince earlier.  "Tristan is no criminal," she hissed.  "He is my lover and he is loyal to me.  You would be foolish to underestimate me."

 

"Tread carefully, Princess Isolde, or I will have you executed for treason along with him," Uther responded coldly, his composure unwavering despite the imminent threat.

 

Isolde sheathed her sword and threw off the guard who'd hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tristan is innocent," she repeated.  "You're wrong. He could not have committed any crime; he was in my rooms all night. Ask the men guarding my door."

 

Uther narrowed his eyes. "Are you doubting the word of your monarch?"

 

Arthur gently pulled Mithian away from his father and put himself between them, trying to mitigate the situation.  "In light of new evidence, I suggest a retrial with arbitration. My lord, do you accept?" Arthur bowed his head respectfully, hoping to mollify Uther's anger at his interference.

 

Uther hid his scowl, but Arthur could still detect his ire in the clench of his jaw. However, it didn't matter what the king wanted. With all of his people having witnessed Isolde's outburst, there was only one thing he could do.  By the resignation in his stance, Arthur could tell that his father had reached this same conclusion. "Fine. I accept. An arbiter will be found and brought for the approval of the accused. The retrial will take place at noon tomorrow. In the interim, the accused will be returned to his cell."

 

Then, he stormed off to sulk and terrorize someone else.  Arthur let out a sigh of relief. He nodded to the guards, who escorted Tristan back to his cell, under the watchful eye of Isolde. Leon left to continue the hunt for the real culprit and Mithian retired to her room. Arthur found himself alone, once the crowd had disseminated, with only the colossal anchor for company.

 

He was mulling things over in his head when a young messenger, cheeks rosy with exertion, ran up to him. "Sire!" the boy squeaked.

 

Arthur gestured for the boy to continue.

 

"Aglain and Lady Merlin need you, at once!"


	24. Hearts and Minds

**Chapter 24 - Hearts and Minds:**

 

_"Sire!" the boy squeaked._

_Arthur gestured for the boy to continue._

_"Aglain and Lady Merlin need you, at once!"_

 

 

His veins froze with fear. Every terrifying situation leapt to his mind and he hastened to the physician's room, heart beating fast and dreading what he was sure to find there.

 

Arthur burst into the infirmary to find Merlin and the old Druid laughing over crumpets. It turned out the excitable you messenger had grossly exaggerated the urgency.

 

The prince sagged into a chair, overcome with irritation and wondering why he'd cared so much. "What is it?" he snapped.

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at his tone. "We wanted you to be here when Aglain opens the letter from his nephew."

 

Arthur deflated a bit but didn't apologize.

 

Freya slid off the bench and went over to the prince. She raised her arms expectantly and waited to be lifted. Arthur put a hand under each of her tiny arms and hoisted her up. He threw her up in the air a few times, which made Freya squeal and giggle and demand, "Again, Prince Arthur! Again!"

 

Arthur obliged her until he got tired and plopped her in his lap. He blew a raspberry into her cheek just to hear her laugh again. When he was done, Arthur looked up and caught an indecipherable expression cross Merlin's face. Before he had a chance to wonder about it, her features smoothed into a blank mask once more.

 

Feeling lighter, Arthur turned to Aglain. "You received a letter?"

 

"Indeed, sire." The healer pulled a sealed missive from the inside of his robes. He broke the plain beeswax seal, opened the letter, and began to read out loud.

 

" _Dear Uncle,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Regarding the subject you mentioned in your last letter; I have never met such a person. However, there is a village that lies a few leagues inland.  From your description, I am nearly certain that the aforementioned individual hails from this village.  Should your friends chose to make the journey, I am willing to act as their guide.  I await your response in the city Camlann._

_Signed, your loyal nephew._ "

 

The room was silent for a moment before Arthur spoke up. "That's good right?"

 

"Yeah," Merlin said dully.

 

Arthur didn't miss her lack of enthusiasm. "You don't think we should go."

 

"It all seems too simple. Elsa left her home for some reason.  It must have been something terrible for her to put herself and her daughter in danger and risk being found as a stowaway rather than stay where she was," she reasoned. _And I don't think I can let Freya go_ , her traitorous mind added.

 

Arthur nodded, understanding her fears, spoken and unspoken. And what if they went all that way and found nothing? Or worse, something terrible? "But it's the only lead we have," he said slowly. "I say we follow it."

 

Merlin frowned, but nodded her reluctant agreement.

 

Arthur began to plan out loud. "We'll be docking in Northumbria early tomorrow morning to drop off our guests. Camlann is about 20 leagues from Northumbria. At our speed, we should be there in under a day." He instinctively glanced at Merlin for confirmation. She responded with a minute nod.

 

Aglain was already pulling out a sheaf of parchment and scratching out a reply to his nephew. "I've asked him to meet you tomorrow at sunset at the main dock of Camlann."

"Excellent. Thank you, Aglain. Post the letter as soon as you've finished. Merlin, you pack our bags and I'll see to our transport." Arthur waited for an affirming nod from both of them. He was half way out the door when he stopped and turned around again. "I didn't catch your nephew's name?"

 

"Mordred. His name is Mordred."

 

///

 

There was a feast that night in honor of the guests' last night on the _Ygraine_. There was drinking and music and dancing, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to join in the festivities. He had a lot weighing on his mind: their upcoming trip to find Freya's family, Merlin, Nimueh's escape, the traitors that were still on the loose, that symbol that refused to come off the wall despite the servants' valiant efforts, Tristan and Isolde, not to mention the decision he'd have to make that night. Uther had told him in no uncertain terms that Arthur would have to chose his bride after the feast.  Somehow, everyone in the room seemed aware of that fact. Clara and Vivian were pushed in his direction by their fathers, while Ella and Ana took turns clumsily flirting with him.

 

Arthur had no idea what he was going to tell his father. The twins were definitely out; Ella was a conniving harpy who'd likely castrate him in his sleep while Ana, sweet though dim, would get over her misguided crush eventually and fall in love with some nice baker boy somewhere and settle down with him. Vivian wasn't an option either. She hadn't touched her goblet all night. From that, her red-rimmed eyes, and subtle glow, Arthur could guess that she was knocked up.

 

Then there was Isolde, who not only hated him with a passion, but also was in love with another man. And no way was he getting between Tristan and Isolde. That left Mithian, who was his cousin, and Clara, who was twelve.  For the most eligible bachelor in the world, his girl prospects were not looking good.

 

That brought his thoughts back to Merlin, who'd effectively dumped him yesterday. Just thinking about it made Arthur scowl. It bothered him more than he was willing to let on. It was all still so fresh and raw and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He and Merlin had been best friends for so long and Arthur had been elated when their relationship moved on to the next level. Had Merlin been unhappy and he just didn't notice? Had he not been enough for her? Did she move on to someone else? Someone who was nicer to her and more understanding and didn't make fun of her hair all the time?

 

"Stop thinking so hard, you look constipated."

 

Arthur dragged himself out of his thoughts and blinked stupidly at the sight of his sister sitting next to him.

 

"What?" Had she been sitting there the whole time?

 

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Intelligent as usual. It's a wonder Merlin puts up with you."

 

"Merlin?" That got his attention. "Where?"

 

Morgana looked pityingly at him. "You've got it bad, haven't you?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur said defensively.

 

"You're pining," she told him bluntly. "Like a lost puppy."

 

Arthur spluttered unattractively.

 

Morgana ignored his lack of social graces and continued. "Since you care so much, why don't you go win her back?"

 

"It's not that easy, Morgana," he gritted out.

 

"I don't see how it's difficult," she countered. "You have feelings for her—“

 

"And she clearly doesn't return them!" Arthur snapped.

 

"You can't possibly believe that."

 

Arthur didn't deign to respond.

 

Morgana made a noise of frustration. "You two are colossal idiots. How you managed within a day to convince yourself that Merlin doesn't care for you is beyond me. Of course she does! Or else she wouldn't have locked herself in her room, moping over you. I'm telling you Arthur, just go talk to her."

 

Arthur scowled. "Why should I? _She_ started it."

 

Morgana slammed her hands down, thoroughly exasperated. "That's it. I give up."

 

She stalked away and Arthur returned to brooding.

 

///

 

"Arthur." Uther sat down again at the high table, having finished listening to schmoozing nobles and chatting with the visiting kings.

 

Arthur inclined his head. "Father," he acknowledged.

 

Uther made a show of surveying the room. He didn't look at Arthur when he asked, "Have you made your decision yet?"

 

"I have not, sire."  Arthur ducked his head, anticipating a rebuke that did not come.

 

Uther only seemed amused. "I never imagined having too many girls to choose from would be a problem. And to think I was worried that Godwyn's daughter couldn't make it."

 

"What did happen to Elena?" Arthur had noticed the conspicuous lack of a certain clumsy princess.

 

Uther took a sip from his goblet. "Hm? Oh. The girl died. Murdered by pirates, I believe. Very upsetting," he said, sounding anything but. "I had someone him our condolences and a fine new yacht."

 

Arthur turned away in order to hide his incredulity. He honestly did not understand his father at all.

 

///

 

Far too soon, Uther rose from his seat, prompting the others to climb to their feet as well. Arthur and the princesses followed the king out of the ballroom and into an antechamber. The young women seated themselves down the length of a long table opposite the king and the prince. Arthur felt there was a significance to the way in which he and his father sat separate, with the table dividing them, instead of like equals.

 

"Ladies, you are all aware why your presence has been requested," Uther began grandly. "After a week, over the course of which, you each spent a day with the prince, Arthur has come to a decision regarding his future bride."

 

Arthur stood, swallowing down his nervousness. He took a second to look each princess in the eye before speaking. "Hello. It's good to see all of you again. I had a wonderful time this week with each of you, you're all very lovely people. Now, before I announce my decision, I'd like to say that if you aren't chosen, it isn't the result of any shortcoming or fault of yours, it's largely based on my own personal preference.

 

"I'm afraid I haven't chosen my bride yet, but I have narrowed it down to two. I will announce those who have not been chosen—“ Arthur glanced at his father and continued only after seeing Uther nod.

 

"Isolde. Mithian. Ella. Ana. I'm sorry, I will not be marrying you."

 

Isolde appeared relieved and shot him a faint smile. Mithian was completely unsurprised and bored. Ana seemed disappointed as well as close to tears from the rejection. Of the two he hadn't named, Clara looked surprised while Vivian had a bemused expression on her face.  But it was Ella's reaction that scared him the most. She wasn't just angry, she was vengeful, and the look in her eye said she had something planned.

 

It didn't take long for her to give up the game. "My lord," Ella simpered. "If I may speak."

 

Arthur opened his mouth to answer before realizing she hadn't been addressing him, but his father.

 

"Of course, Princess Ella," Uther said generously, without a hint of impatience.

 

She rose to her feet and tossed her mane of corkscrew curls over her shoulder. "Over the week, I noticed that the time spent with Prince Arthur wasn't entirely fair.  So of course I brought it to the king's attention. My lord agreed with me that I should keep an eye on the prince—“

 

Arthur's jaw dropped. "You _what_?"

 

"Arthur," the king reprimanded.

 

Ella smiled smugly. "I monitored every one of your meetings."

 

"You spied on me?" Arthur felt betrayed. How could his father allow this? Surely he saw Ella for the smarmy little weasel she was. Arthur felt his temper rising and had to take deep breaths to stop himself from striking her. If it weren't against the Knights' Code and everything he believed in, Arthur would have thrown a punch or at least a gauntlet by now.  

 

Ella, apparently trusting Uther to defend her from his son's fury, continued. "And do you know what I found? On each day, when he should have been wooing his potential brides, Prince Arthur instead, spent a highly inappropriate amount of time with another unmarried woman!  I took the liberty to question some of the help, and I found out that this minx is none other than the prince's advisor, one Merlin Emrys."

 

"What?!"

 

"Prince Arthur, you can try to deny it, but it's true. I have evidence."

 

Uther didn't tell Ella off for speaking so rudely and brazenly to the Crown Prince. On the contrary, the king leaned forward and encouraged her. "Tell us what evidence you have found."

 

"Gladly, sire. Clara!" Ella barked.

 

Clara jumped and grew even smaller when everyone turned to stare at her. "Yes, Princess Ella," she said timidly.

 

"Did you or did you not spend the majority of your day in Prince Arthur's chambers with Merlin Emrys?"

 

Clara glanced fearfully at the king and apologetically at the prince before whispering, "Yes."

 

Ella pushed on with a satisfied smirk. "After Vivian's day, Prince Arthur immediately returned to his room, where Merlin Emrys was waiting. And during my day, that brazen woman didn't even wait! She was sneaking around, just waiting to interrupt my date and steal Prince Arthur's attention and put her hands all over him."

 

Arthur slammed his hand down on the table. "That's not even close to correct! Merlin was not "sneaking around". _She_ —by pure coincidence, mind you—just happened to be nearby when _you_ threw yourself at me and dislocated my shoulder. And her hands were not all over me, all she did was reset my shoulder so I wouldn't be crippled for the rest of my life!"

 

Uther frowned at his son. "Arthur, apologize for your outburst. That was rude."

 

Arthur seethed. Rude? And Ella throwing shade at Merlin, and not even to her face, wasn't? It was obvious whom Uther favored here.

 

Ella only continued to bait him. "Oh and she interrupted Isolde's day as well. Tell me, sire, does she not get enough of you at night? Why else would she feel the need to follow you around like a pathetic little dog all day?"

 

Arthur saw red. Enough was enough. He jerked to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. "Shut up," he barked. He felt a vindictive stab of pleasure when Ella finally snapped her big mouth shut, cowed by his anger.

 

"Arthur!" Uther roared. "Sit down."

 

Arthur couldn't disobey a direct order. He petulantly picked up his chair and sat.

 

"Is this true, Arthur? You and this girl? How could you be so foolish?"

 

"We didn't—“ Arthur tried to explain.

 

Uther shook his head, disappointed and carried on as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "It's decided. I'm banishing her."

 

"What! No!"

 

"She's a distraction, Arthur. It's for your own good."

 

"You can't—“

 

Uther brought his fist down, shaking the table. "I can and I will. You forget your place. Don't fight me on this, Arthur. She's just a peasant, you'll get over it soon enough."

 

"I thought she was a lady," Ana interjected quietly.

 

Arthur tried not to let his alarm show on his face. As if this could get any worse.

 

Uther narrowed his eyes. "What would give you that idea?"

 

"Well, all the servants call her 'my lady'," Ana said uncertainly.

 

"That's only because of her status as my advisor," Arthur lied smoothly, "not because she's noble."

 

Uther cast him a suspicious look but let it drop. He shook his head.  "It doesn't matter.  She's banished from the Camelot fleet indefinitely." The king met his son's eyes and pronounced, "My decision is final."

 

Arthur swore under his breath.  How was he going to break this to Merlin?  The Dragon was her home; this would surely break her heart. Not to mention the fact that Arthur couldn't function without his best friend. Shit.

 

While Arthur was having a mental freak out, Uther continued.  "Princesses Vivian and Clara, you and your entourages will remain with the _Ygraine_ until Prince Arthur makes his decision.  Everyone else will disembark when we dock in Port Northumbria tomorrow morning.  That is all.  Good night, ladies.  Meeting dismissed."

 

Unsurprisingly, Ella and Ana lingered behind while everyone else filed out, likely so they could poison Uther's mind further with sweet words.  It didn't matter; this time, it actually worked to Arthur's advantage.

 

"Wait."

 

Vivian, Isolde, Mithian, and Clara turned to him.  Arthur beckoned them into a recess in the corridor that held the bust of a fat bald man. "I wanted to talk to you."

 

Isolde gave him a knowing look.  "You're leaving with her."

 

Arthur nodded.  "I should be gone by tomorrow. I wanted to say my goodbyes now.  Mith—“

 

Mithian stepped forward and hugged him tight.  "Take care of yourself, Art."

 

Arthur started.  He hadn't hear that nickname in years.  "You too, Mith.  I'll see you."

 

She pecked him on the cheek, waved to the girls, and left.

 

Arthur next addressed Vivian and Clara.  "I'm afraid I won't be marrying either of you."

 

Viv shrugged.  "I didn't think so.  That girl obviously means a lot to you." She embraced him and whispered,  "Good luck."

 

Arthur waited until they separated to give her midsection a significant look.  "You too."

 

She grinned. "You'll have to come visit us. Oooh! Maybe I'll get shame the father into proposing!"

 

He shook his head. "Only you, Viv."

 

She gave his arm one last squeeze and flounced off.

 

Arthur turned to Clara, who was watching him with a small smile. "Clara, I'm sorry I won't be marrying you."

 

Clara's expression turned incredulous. "Arthur, you don't owe me anything. I saw you and Merlin together, you just fit perfectly.  I just hope I can find love like that one day."

 

"I'm sure you will, Clara, you're lovely, really. Now, I've sent a supply boat to your kingdom. It should be there shortly after you—“

 

Clara cut him off with a hug, her arms squeezing tight around his middle. "Thank you, thank you. Prince Arthur, you are amazing!"

 

Arthur only laughed and squeezed her back. "I'll see you soon, all right?"

 

Clara agreed happily and left with a bounce in her step.

 

The only one left now was Isolde. She'd been silent the entire time, watching each interaction closely. Her face offered no indication of her emotions.

 

Arthur faced her and looked her in the eye. "Isolde. I need your help. If we do this right, we can get both Tristan and Merlin off this ship tonight."

 

Isolde nodded seriously. "I'm in. What do you want me to do?"

 

"Get all of your things," Arthur instructed.  "Then go to my ship and get Merlin and the little girl with her. Tell Merlin to get everything we need for our trip. Then go wait with _Excalibur_. Merlin will know where to go. It's important that no one sees either of you before I get there. Understand?"

 

She gave him an affirmative.

 

Arthur hesitated. "And I'd prefer you let me break the news to her."

 

Isolde gave him a shrewd look but didn't comment. "And where will you be?"

 

"I need to leave instructions with my first in command. Then I'm breaking Tristan out."

 

She stared at him with suspiciously bright eyes. "Be careful," was all she said before disappearing down the dark corridor.

 

///

 

Once she gathered her and Tristan's necessities, Isolde stalked haughtily across the precariously swaying rope bridge to the _Dragon's Call_. The guards recognized her immediately and gave her no trouble. She descended below decks and stopped, completely lost.

 

By chance, Isolde came across a guard sleeping at his post. She nudged him until he woke.

 

"My lady!" He jumped up and straightened his hauberk, embarrassed.

 

Isolde raised a judgmental eyebrow. "I won't tell if you can show me the way to Lady Merlin's rooms."

 

The man noticed the bags in her hands and concluded that Arthur had chosen his future queen and it would be in his best interest to obey. He graciously took her burden and led the way to the prince's advisor.

 

Isolde waited until the guard retreated to his post before knocking. After several minutes and multiple rounds of insistent knocking, the door finally opened.

 

"Arthur, wha—“ Merlin's cross expression turned to surprise. "Princess Isolde. Um, hi. Come in."

 

Isolde entered and shut the door and waited while Merlin lit a lamp.

 

Merlin crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched the other girl warily. "How can I help you, my lady?"

 

"Please, just Isolde. And you need to get everything you need for your trip. You're leaving tonight with Prince Arthur and the little girl."

 

Merlin frowned. "Did he say anything else?"

 

"Not really."

 

Merlin began to move around the room, picking up a few things from the table and dresser and chair.

 

"Does he do this often then?" Isolde asked. She'd been surprised how easily Merlin accepted her story.

 

The other girl shrugged and went behind the changing screen. "The traveling, not as much. But the withholding information and acting superior happens a lot. I always seem to be getting dragged into things."

 

She reappeared in a short amount of time. Merlin had changed into a shirt, trousers, and boots, and thrown on one of Arthur's old jackets over it. Then she tucked the dagger from under her pillow in her boot and stuck the one from the bedside drawer in her waistband. Merlin disappeared into the closet and came out with two packed bags. "Clothes, money, weapons," she muttered to herself. "Flint, map, flask, provisions, blankets, potions, rope, whetstone..."

 

Merlin screwed up her face, trying to think. "I think that's everything. We'll just have to stop in Arthur's room and get his sword and seal."

 

She went to the bed and shook the ball of blankets. "Frey-Frey, wake up love."

 

Freya made snuffling noises and tried to burrow back under the covers. Merlin pulled her out and wrapped a little cloak over her tiny shoulders.

 

Isolde frowned. "How are we going to manage all this?"

 

Merlin glanced at the slew of bags and the sleepy girl  in her arms. "We could get a guard?"

 

Isolde shook her head. "Arthur said not to let anyone see us."

 

Merlin pursed her lips. "I can hold my bag and Freya. Could you hold Arthur's? I tried not to pack too much. I'm not sure how heavy your things are—?“

 

Isolde hefted both packs. "I'll manage."

 

They left Merlin's room, walked briskly across the hall, and entered Arthur's chambers. Merlin quickly retrieved Arthur's sword and various knives from their hiding places and stowed them in the bags. Then she went to the desk and slid the prince's signet onto chain around her neck. "Ready."

 

"Arthur said to wait with _Excalibur_?" Isolde told her uncertainly.

 

"Right."  Merlin shifted Freya to her other shoulder and led the way out.

 

///

 

Arthur strode purposefully through the ship. He gave Isolde a few minutes head start before he crossed the bridge himself. The guards jumped to attention and saluted him as he passed. Arthur inclined his head, barely noticing them on his way to the officers' barracks.

 

He came to a stop before a familiar door. A split second before he knocked, Arthur swore he heard a girlish giggle. But it was completely silent when Leon opened the door.

 

"Ah. Sire."

 

Was it just him or did his stolid first-in-command seem discomfited?

 

"May I come in?"

 

Leon, for the briefest moment, resembled a cornered animal. "Of—of course, sire."

 

Arthur eyed him suspiciously. Leon was definitely being shifty.

 

"Oh give it up, Leon," a voice called, a voice Arthur knew very well.

 

Morgana swanned into view, with only a chunky shawl over her thin nightgown.

 

Arthur's eyes swung back and forth between his fidgeting, apprehensive first and his shameless, defiant sister.

 

Morgana took it upon herself offer a brusque explanation. "I couldn't sleep, so Leon kept me company. We played chess."

 

There indeed was a chessboard on Leon's table, pieces frozen mid-game.

 

Still, Arthur felt the need to ask, "Are you sure that's all you were doing?"

 

"That's none of your business," Morgana snapped, defensive.

 

Good lord was that a blush on her cheeks? Arthur decided that he didn't want to know. He trusted Leon with his life and he knew that Morgana could take care of herself.  

 

"I didn't realize you knew each other so well," was all he said.

 

Leon's shoulders loosened a few degrees and his gaze strayed from where it'd been firmly fixed on his own feet. He seemed to recognize that Arthur wasn't angry.

 

"Of course we know each other," Morgana replied dismissively. "I mean, back when we were fourteen, Leon was my first k—“

 

"What was that you needed, sire," Leon cut in loudly.

 

Arthur suddenly recalled his real purpose in seeking out Leon. "I'm leaving."

 

"When will you be back?" Leon was already fetching paper to take notes.

 

Arthur shifted. "I'm leaving, indefinitely."

 

"Why?" Morgana looked perplexed. "Did something happen?"

 

He sighed. "Father exiled Merlin, so I'm going with her. I'll be taking Tristan, Isolde, and Freya too. And I have business on land to attend to. I need you to keep _The_ _Dragon_ running. And you need to keep looking for those traitors on board. Try to use it as an excuse to keep you from docking at shore; that should stall some time for us."

 

Leon nodded seriously. " _The Dragon_ is safe with me."

 

"And leave Uther to me," Morgana told him. "I should be able to buy you some time."

 

Arthur smiled grimly. "I have to get going, but I'll keep in touch."

 

He hugged his sister and clapped Leon on the back. "Take care of each other."

 

Then he left knowing both his sister and his ship were in good hands.

 

///

 

Tristan sat in the pitch black of the brig, half dozing. He had no idea what time of day it was or where the ship was or what was happening. Since he was still there, he safely assumed that the real traitor hadn't been caught yet. And he'd quickly realized that he was alone and not sharing a cell with a potential murderer.

 

He heard voices from the other side of the door, but paid it no attention.  Some petty thief or misbehaved servant was probably being incarcerated for a few hours. It happened more often than he would have thought.

 

Tristan was decidedly ignoring the noise and trying to fall back asleep when the heavy door fell open and the cell was flooded with light. To his eyes, which hadn't been exposed to any source of light in several days, even the feeble glow from a few distant torches was painfully blinding. He threw his hand over his face and squinted through the slivers between his fingers.

 

"Sire, I'm not sure if I can—if you should be—I wouldn't want to be—surely it's against protocol?"

 

Tristan recognized the cadence of the voice and knew the speaker to have participated in the commotion he'd overheard earlier. He was able to identify the other voice as well, when it spoke.

 

"Daniel, do be quiet," the Prince Arthur said genially. "What are you afraid of? There's nothing illegal going on here. I, as your future sovereign, have authorized the release of an innocent man. And you, like a dutiful citizen, have obeyed my command. All is well, my good man."

 

Daniel's concerns seemed to be assuaged by the prince's words. "You're right, of course, sire. Forgive me."

 

Tristan heard the brash jingling of metal and his eyelids were given reprieve when a figure blocked out the light. He opened his eyes. "Your Highness."

 

"Sir Tristan," the Arthur acknowledged. He deftly unlocked the manacles that had bolted Tristan to the wall.  "I need you to come with me. Are you fit to walk?"

 

The knight pulled himself up on wobbling legs, unsteady after sitting in one place for so long. "I'll be fine."

 

Half leaning on the prince, Tristan marched out of the brig, up several flights of stairs, across the deck, and over the bridge to _the Dragon_. From there, Arthur navigated them through service halls and hidden passages, emerging from a wall panel somewhere in the bowels of the ship.

 

"Tristan," someone gasped. And suddenly he was bowled over by Isolde, the smell of her hair all around him, her lips desperately meeting his. Tristan held her close, reveling in how right he felt with Isolde in his arms.

 

Arthur wisely took a step back and approached Merlin. He couldn't stop his hands from skimming lightly over her sides, automatically searching for injuries. "All right? You didn't meet any trouble?"

 

Merlin smiled tiredly. "I'm fine, Arthur. Stop worrying, you mother hen."

 

Arthur didn't look convinced. "At least let me take Freya."

 

Isolde had finished her reunion with Tristan and was picking up her bags. "It won't work. She wouldn't even let me—“

 

Merlin transferred her sleeping burden into Arthur's waiting arms. Freya began to fret but settled down when she recognized the rumble of Arthur's voice. She snuggled into the crook of his neck like a kitten and resumed sleeping contentedly.  

 

Isolde raised her eyebrows but chose not to comment on the action or its implications.

 

Arthur shifted Freya onto his other hip and gestured with his free hand for the others to follow. He rounded the corner and approached the guards posted there with a confident gait.

 

"Your Highness!" Both men jumped to attention.  They took in the two women clad in men's clothing, the dark-haired child in the prince's arms, the sturdy packs on their backs, and Tristan, gaunt and worse-for-wear, with puzzlement.

 

Arthur nodded at them. "Peter, Gavin."

 

"Greg," Merlin corrected.

 

"Greg," Arthur repeated.

 

Greg, who had been flustered to be addressed at all by the prince, was overwhelmed to be known by name.  He managed a shaky bow.

 

"I need you two to unlock the boat house."

 

Peter looked uncomfortable. "Sire, we're not supposed to—“

 

Arthur's gaze was expectant.

 

Peter tried again. "The rules say—“

 

"I admire your devotion, Peter," Arthur said slowly, patiently.  "But I was the one who put that rule in place. And now I am telling you to ignore it."

 

"Yes sire!" Peter, now flushing a brilliant red, fumbled with his keys in his haste to unlock the door.

 

Arthur paused. "And one more thing. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them that I ordered it. Sir Leon will back you up."

 

Then swept past into the boathouse, followed by Tristan and Isolde, Merlin bringing up the rear. She stopped to thank the two men.

 

Peter merely grunted while Greg rolled his eyes derisively. "Whatever."

 

Merlin bit her lip and ducked inside without a word.

 

The boathouse ran along the length of the ship, yachts and rowboats and skiffs lined up in a single long row. The moonlight reflected off of gleaming decks and pristine exteriors, kept at a shine by an army of servants. Each boat had its own stall, with a deep groove in the floor tailored to its shape and a system of pulleys that allowed the vessel to be pulled out and lowered into the water. Each was suspended by a web of rope and hooks. Merlin had always been fascinated by the boathouse; its sophisticated and ingenious design had always seemed incongruous with the primitivism of other areas of the ship.

 

Arthur expertly maneuvered his way through the dark to his beloved _Excalibur,_ skirting huge coils of rope, tangles of fishing nets, and bolts of canvas for sails. When he reached his yacht, he ran a reverent hand over her polished hull, tracing the smooth golden lettering that bore her name. "Here she is."

 

Isolde and Tristan made noises of appreciation, admiring her sleek curves and strong lines.

 

"Merlin, get in. I'll pass you Freya and the bags. You know what to do," Arthur directed. "Isolde, Tristan, with me. We need to untie her and push her out."

 

With half the boat sunk into the ground, the top of the railing was about even with Arthur's head.  Merlin gave herself a running start and vaulted over the side, landing neatly on the deck. She leaned back over the side to hoist the four packs onto Excalibur and throw them into the holding cavity under the deck.  Then Arthur lifted Freya over his head and passed her into Merlin's arms. Merlin placed the little girl in one of the hammocks, which immediately curled up around her like a cocoon.

 

Meanwhile Arthur, Tristan, and Isolde checked that all the hooks attached to _Excalibur_ were secure; if even one was out of place, the entire vessel would fall. Next they loosened the mooring lines, enough so the ropes had slack for _Excalibur_ to move, but not so much to lose control, and tied them off again. The three then began to push the boat, slowly easing it out of its padded groove. With one more great heave, _Excalibur_ slipped free of the deck and hung suspended by the overhanging ceiling above the crashing waves. Slowly and jerkily, the boat was lowered to the water by Arthur, Tristan, and Isolde releasing the supporting ropes by increments. Merlin clung to the mast to avoid listing from side to side with the boat. She was thankful she'd had the foresight to tie everything down.

 

Once the vessel landed in the sea with not a small splash, Merlin unhooked the support lines and gave each a tug to let the others know to wind the ropes back up. Now untethered from _the Dragon_ , _Excalibur_ bobbed in place while the bigger ship sailed on. Merlin immediately threw a mooring line with an unerring hand over the post protruding from the hull of _the Dragon_. She reeled _Excalibur_ closer so the little boat was lined up with a ladder nailed to the side of the bigger ship. Merlin craned her neck and spotted Isolde climbing down, Tristan and Arthur carefully descending after her. When they reached the end of the ladder, the couple jumped into the boat, causing it to rock wildly for a moment under their sudden combined weight. Meanwhile Arthur took a detour to unloop the mooring line and cast them off before hopping into _Excalibur_ , landing lightly on his toes like a cat.

 

"All right?" He glanced around at each of his companions. Tristan looked thoroughly worn down from his hellish sojourn in the brig. "Tristan, maybe you should rest first."

 

The knight adamantly refused. "Isolde should rest. She's dead on her feet. Besides I rested all day in the brig, I'm fine."

 

Isolde, who looked as tired as Arthur felt, didn't refute the statement.

 

"Isolde then, and Merlin—“

 

Merlin was already shaking her head. "No Arthur, I slept for a few hours. You've been up and you look beat. I'll navigate and you rest."

 

"But—“

 

"Rest," she repeated firmly.

 

Arthur's shoulders slumped as he gave in. "Fine. But I think you're forgetting who gives orders around here."

 

Merlin only raised an eyebrow. "Am I, now."

 

He scowled and stalked away into the main cabin to sleep.

 

//

 

His eyelids had only just shut when Merlin was shaking him awake again.

 

"What happened?" Arthur bolted upright, forgetting he was in a hammock. He was forced to cling to the rough material to avoid being dumped on his arse.

 

Merlin was doing a truly shoddy job of concealing her amusement. "Nothing happened. It's nearly dawn, your turn to navigate."

 

Arthur was shocked to see the sky beginning to lighten in the east. Four hours had felt like mere minutes. "You should have woken me sooner."

 

"And deprive you of your sleep? I don't think so. Get up and I'll show you where we are." Merlin left, not waiting for Arthur to follow.

 

Arthur eventually persuaded his body to cooperate and leave the warmth of his hammock. Someone, likely Merlin, had pulled a jacket from his pack and left it for him. He gratefully shrugged it on and drifted out of the cabin.

 

Tristan was at the wheel, holding it in place, while Merlin sat on the ground, pouring over maps and charts, surrounded by the glow kerosene lamps and the glint of cartography instruments. She heard his steps approaching and patted the ground next to her. "Sit."

 

Arthur obediently took a seat. He really needed to stop following Merlin's orders.

 

"We're about here." Merlin tapped a finger on the map. " _The Dragon_ and _Ygraine_ are heading here, the Port of Northumbria." She moved her finger to a dot on the coast an inch away.  "We don't want to cross paths so we're heading here." Her finger pointed to a smaller, closer dot labeled _St Peter_.  "It's about fifteen leagues away, twenty-seven degrees North of East. The wind's blowing due North right now at about three knots, we’re moving at about twenty-five. I've set the course using the stars and the compass, but you might want to adjust it as we get closer—“

 

"Merlin, I know how to navigate my own yacht. Now go sleep."

 

She huffed. "Fine. Wake me if anything exciting happens."

 

Arthur relieved the wheel from Tristan, who left to wake Isolde. She appeared a minute later, fresh-faced and chipper. Arthur had her hold the wheel while he adjusted some of the sails as the wind began to change. When he returned from checking knots and lines, he took the wheel back from her. They spent the next couple of hours in silence, with only the swishing of water for a soundtrack.

 

Abruptly, as the sun was beginning its slow ascension to the zenith, Isolde broke the silence. “I don’t really hate you.”

 

Arthur didn’t know what to make of her incongruous statement. He waited for her to elaborate.

 

“During our day together,” she explained. “I was exceptionally rude to you.”

 

He shrugged. “Merlin’s rude to me all the time. I’m used to it.”

“I did it on purpose,” Isolde felt the need to clarify. “I was scared you’d chose me and I’d be forced to marry you.”

 

“So you made yourself unattractive to me by being a nasty person.”

 

Isolde ducked her head sheepishly.  “Not the best of plans, I’ll admit. But it worked.”

 

Arthur snorted. “It worked because I’m not marrying anyone at all, which had nothing to do with you.”

 

She flapped her hand flippantly at him. “Technicalities.”

 

That startled a laugh out of him. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Yes, Tristan’s always saying that too,” Isolde said, smiling fondly.

 

“So you’re serious then, you and Tristan?”

 

She nodded slowly. “We are. He was against the idea at first, had all these notions that I deserved better.” Isolde rolled her eyes at the thought of it. “But I managed to talk him ‘round. What about you and Merlin, then?”

 

Arthur grimaced. “On the rocks, I’m afraid. Still trying to win her back.”

 

Isolde offered him a sympathetic face. “You’ll get there. Just be honest with her. Tell her how you feel, lay it all out on the table. Dancing around each other isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

 

His lips were set in a wry twist. “If only it were that easy.”

 

Isolde didn’t respond and they lapsed into silence. Arthur checked their bearings and slightly adjusted their course. He pulled out a brass telescope and put it to his eye. He pivoted left then right, scanning the silken waters for any vessels or anomalies. The hazy gray-green outline of the shore was visible in the far distance, limned in gold by the sunrise. Absorbed in searching the coast for recognizable landmarks, Arthur almost missed the rowboat innocuously bobbing several hundred feet away. He focused the lens on the little boat. If he wasn’t mistaken…

 

“Get Merlin,” Arthur said tersely.

 

Isolde frowned. “What?”

 

“Get Merlin,” he repeated impatiently. “Please.”

 

Merlin emerged from the cabin, hair mussed and eyes tired. She perked up, immediately alert when she observed Arthur’s serious countenance. He wordlessly passed the telescope to her and pointed in the direction he wanted her to look.

 

She was quiet for a long time, gazing through the glass without blinking. “Small lifeboat, wooden, standard model, capacity six adults, newly commissioned, hardly used,” Merlin said, half to herself.

 

Then she set the telescope aside and confirmed what Arthur had been dreading. “Ship of origin, _the Ygraine_.”

 

But Merlin didn’t stop there. “ _And recently stolen by Nimueh Lake_.”


	25. Lies and Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I've been busy and so uninspired recently. If you have any ideas i'd love to hear them!

**Chapter 25 – Lies and Deceit:**

 

Arthur took less than a second to weigh his options. Expression unyielding and muscles taut, he announced coldly, "I will not have loose ends. We're giving chase. This ends here."

Tristan tacitly surrendered the wheel to Arthur and retreated to stand with Isolde. The couple was immediately commandeered by Merlin to help adjust sails, leaving the prince alone at the stern.  

Arthur's stance screamed 'relaxed', but had the others been present to observe, they would have seen through the nonchalant facade and noticed the restless thrum of energy buzzing beneath his skin. His hands gripped the familiar wooden knobs and grooves of the wheel tightly, knuckles white and tendons in his wrists in stark relief. He could feel the rapid staccato of his heart rate pounding in his ears, could feel the dizzying rush of adrenaline fluttering in his chest, and the sickly swoop of nerves settle behind his naval.

But he could also feel the elated thrill dancing through him, tingling in his fingertips and humming through his nerve endings. There was something heady and exhilarating in the freedom and power this bundle of wood and canvas afforded him. 

Merlin had already rigged the sails to optimize speed. Now she adjusted them to squeeze even more out of the yacht. The prow of Excalibur sliced easily though the water and they glided forward with effortless grace. Arthur silently counted down the distance to Nimueh's rowboat. _Three hundred yards, two fifty, two hundred, one fifty-_

At a hundred yards away, Arthur heard the boom swing and had to stop himself from automatically ducking his head at the sound.  Excalibur shuddered and slowed down to a crawl as the wind left her sails. They cautiously closed the final hundred yards with bated breath and gut-wrenching anticipation.

As Excalibur inched closer, it was obvious that there wasn't a living thing aboard the mysterious rowboat.  It was unnervingly still and absent of human presence.

At this distance, Arthur was able to make out a big streaky black mark that marred the inside of the rowboat. It radiated outward from what appeared to be a pile of—

"Are those bones?" 

Arthur flinched when Merlin suddenly spoke. Though she sounded more morbidly fascinated than disgusted.

The prince steered Excalibur so that she drew up alongside the smaller boat. From there they could clearly see ashes and bone fragments sitting in a charred corner of the ship.

"Definitely bones," Isolde said, coming to join them port side, Tristan a step behind her. "But whose?"

Merlin hazarded a guess. "Nimueh?"

Arthur frowned. "It sounds too good to be true, but I don't know who else it could be. This is definitely the boat she stole?"

Merlin nodded emphatically. "I'm sure. It matches Leon's description perfectly: small, standard model, newly commissioned, serial number 0391."

Isolde peered at the grotesque remains. "I wonder what happened. I mean, there's nothing here that could have started a fire. No flint, no match, nothing flammable around. How did she catch on fire in the middle of the ocean?"

"Lightning?" Tristan found three sets of startled eyes suddenly fixed on him. He shrugged. "It's far fetched, but plausible."

Arthur nodded uncertainly. "I suppose we got really lucky that the woman we're hunting was conveniently fried by lightning."

They looked on in troubled silence for a minute. Then Arthur jerked the steering wheel to the right and the Excalibur veered away from the ashes and its floating vessel. As Merlin tugged on different lines, each sail unfurled and filled with air. By increments, the yacht picked up speed until they were hurtling through the waves at top speed once again.

//

Arthur felt a tugging sensation and glanced down to find Freya clutching the hem of his shirt. "Hi-hi Prince Arthur."

He scooped her up into his arms. "Hey-o Frey. How's my favorite lady doing this morning?"

She yawned widely, her mouth slack and tiny nose scrunched up.

Arthur laughed. "Still tired, huh?" He angled himself so she could see out cross the sea. "Do you know where we are?"

"Dragon?"

"No sweetheart, Excalibur."

"Essaliber," she tried.

"Ex-cal-i-ber." 

"Eksaliber?"

"Right!" Arthur beamed at her.

Tristan snorted from behind the wheel and Isolde looked away to hide her mirth.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

Tristan pretended to be preoccupied with the buckles on his boots, while Isolde fetched an amused smile. "Nothing."

///

They were docked in Saint Peter by the end of two hours. It was a quaint fishing village, indistinguishable from the dozens of other tiny towns that dotted the coast. In its entirely, St Peter was nothing more than a main street, a wharf, and a handful of whitewashed homes nestled in the  shadow of a rugged mountain.

The grizzled fishermen, who were mending nets and gutting fish by the marina, gaped at Excalibur; her elegant lines, glossy finish, and avant-garde aerodynamic model made her immediately conspicuous among the shabby fishing boats. By the time they disembarked, word had spread and a sizable crowd of curious villagers had gathered to greet them.

Arthur had scrounged a cap from somewhere and used it to conceal his conspicuous golden hair. He spoke with an absurd, affected accent and lilting voice. "Greetings, people of St Peter. I am Lord Ruhtra of Tolemac." He gestured to Merlin. "My beloved wife, Lady Nilrem and our daughter, Freya." He waved an arm in the general direction of Tristan and Isolde. "Our servants Natsirt and Edlosi. We seek lodging for tonight. Which of you good people is the keeper of the inn?"

One of the villagers cleared his throat. "Er. Milord, I'm afraid our humble village does not receive visitors very often." The man finished apologetically, "We have no inn."

Arthur only waved genially. "Absolutely fine. A spare room then? You will be well compensated for your troubles."

The villagers bowed their heads together to confer. After several minutes of hushed arguing and agitated shuffling, living arrangements were made. Arthur, Merlin, and Freya would stay with Andrea, a widow, who lived with her teenage daughter in a cabin by the sea, while Tristan and Isolde would inhabit the hayloft in someone's barn not too far away.

To keep up appearances, Tristan was burdened with their various bags as they trekked out to Andrea's house. He came up a step behind Arthur and spoke quietly in the prince's ear, "What did you call me back there? Mat-shirt?"

"Natsirt. It's 'Tristan' backwards," Arthur responded just as quietly. He heard Tristan mumble 'ah' as he figured it out.

On his other side, Andrea was cooing over the child in Merlin's arms.  

"Her name is Freya," Merlin told her shyly, ducking her head. She absolutely loathed the 'docile little wife' facade she had to put on, but, as a woman, it kept her from standing out.

Andrea smiled fondly and somewhat wistfully at the little girl. "I remember when my daughter was that size."

Merlin glanced up curiously. "How old is she now?"

"My Amelie is fifteen. She went out this morning with a search party to look for her friend. Daisy went missing two days ago." Andrea shook her head disapprovingly. "That Daisy had a pretty face with an empty head. It's obvious the silly girl ran off with some boy. They won't find her."

Merlin hummed noncommittally. "Is Amelie your only child?"

"I've another. Henri, my oldest, is a servant with the king of kings himself," Andrea said proudly.

"Wow," she murmured, pretending to be impressed while ransacking her memory for a face to go with the name. But the Ygraine easily employed thousands of servants and Henri wasn't that uncommon. Merlin scowled. She hated not knowing. 

They came to a stop before a two story house perched right at the edge of the beach. It had been painted blue a long time ago, but the wind and the sand had rubbed the house gray. The peeling shutters framed meticulously clean window panes, through which cheerful curtains peeked.

"Here we are," Andrea announced unnecessarily. She guided them inside. There was a main room that functioned as a kitchen and sitting room, a bedroom on the side, and a steep set of stairs that led to a another bedroom on the second floor. "My lord, you and your family will stay in my son's old room upstairs."

Arthur nodded and sent Tristan up first with the bags. He gestured for Merlin to follow while he took up the rear. The stairs shifted and groaned beneath their feet, vehemently protesting their combined weight. They tried to move faster, but the steep steps proved difficult to scale.

The room at the top was sparsely furnished, containing a single bed and a plain desk. It was spacious but severely limited by the slant of the ceiling. Even at the highest point, their heads skimmed the plaster standing at full height.

Tristan dropped their bags by the bed, nodded at them, and left without a word. Merlin deposited Freya on the mattress and went to open the curtains of the tiny window, while Arthur inspected his blades. A stilted silence filled the air between them. 

"Merlin."

"Arthur." 

He sighed. "Are you--are you mad at me?"

Merlin turned to face him. "No."

"Then why won't you talk to me?" He hated this distance between them when it had always been so easy, so simple.

She sat down on the bed beside him, their shoulders brushing, but didn't look at him. "It's still too new. It's hard for me to—Just give me some time to get used to it."

Arthur was lost by her cryptic words but didn't want to admit it. "Right. So, um. Are we okay?"

"Of course." She turned her head and sought his eyes. "You're my best friend," she said earnestly.

Arthur couldn't stop the grin that bloomed across his face.

// 

Andrea wrung her hands nervously as they dug into the broth. "It's not as fine as my lord must be used to. And the room too. Oh dear. Not anywhere as fine. Goodness what was I thinking—“

Merlin put down her spoon and smiled gently at the other woman. "Oh no, Andrea, everything is lovely."

Arthur jumped when Merlin's sharp elbow dug into his side. "Yes! Just lovely," he said hastily, nearly forgetting his fake accent. "We are very grateful for your hospitality."

"Oh but it's hardly fit for a lord and a lady," she fretted

"Andrea, it's perfect,"Merlin said firmly. "It even reminds me of the house I grew up in."

Andrea was surprised. "You have houses like this in—in—“

"Tolemac?" Oops. Merlin floundered for a moment and decided to stick with the truth.  "Er no. Before I met my husband, I lived in a fishing village not a half day north from here."

"You grew up around here? I knew it from the second I saw you! I thought, this girl looks just like a local! With that lovely pale skin and your beautiful dark hair. My goodness, I can hardly believe it! A Terrestrial becoming a lady. And one of our own to boot. Goodness gracious! I am terribly honored to meet you."

Merlin blushed, the tips of her ears burning. "Thank you, Andrea, you are too kind. But it was my husband really. He made me a lady."

Arthur shot her a panicked look as Andrea began to coo over him as well.

He was saved by the door banging open. A teenage girl walked in then stopped dead when she spotted the strangers in her kitchen.

Andrea stood to greet her. "Amelie darling, you're back. Any news?"

The girl shook her head with a frown. "None. We can't find her anywhere."

"That's too bad, love. I'm sure she's fine. Come eat." She went to fetch another bowl.

Amelie shed her cloak and stared at the guests curiously.

"Oh! Darling, this is Lord Ruhtra, Lady Nilrem, and their daughter Freya. They'll be staying with us. Milord, milady, this is my daughter Amelie."

They murmured greetings and exchanged nods and curtsies. Freya forgot about her dinner and watched Amelie with wide eyes.

"Mum, I almost forgot! I picked up a letter while we were in Northumbria." Amelie pulled out a square of paper and unfolded it. "It's from Henri." 

Andrea took the letter and squinted at the words. "We'll have to have Sen read it to us some time."

It dawned on Arthur that unlike Merlin, most Terrestrials never learned how to read or write. He added it to the list of things he would change when he was king. He spoke up, "I'm sure Mer--Nilrem would love to read it for you."

Amelie gaped at her. "You can read?"

Merlin smiled. "I can. Would you like me to? If it's private I won't—“

Andrea pressed the paper into her hand. "Oh no, my lady. It would be an honor."

Merlin cleared her throat.

" _Dear Mum and Amelie,_

 _Thanks for your last letter. I hope you're doing okay. I can't believe we stopped so close to home and I won't get to see you. The_ Ygraine _only stopped in Northumbria so the king's guests could get off. He invited a bunch of princesses so Prince Arthur could choose one and marry her. The Prince was supposed to announce his bride this morning but he never showed. Everyone is saying that his advisor Lady Merlin seduced and kidnapped him. And that she was the traitor who released a dangerous prisoner last week. The king has banished her and put a high price on her head. She's very dangerous. Be careful in case she comes your way—“_

Merlin dropped the letter, hand shaking. Arthur took her hand in two of his and squeezed. She glanced at him and read the myriad of emotions on his face: shock, anger, and something else. Guilt.

And suddenly she knew. Merlin wrenched her hand away. "Excuse me." She stood jerkily and fled upstairs.

She left a stunned silence in her wake. Freya looked confused and a little afraid so Arthur pulled her into his lap. Andrea frowned at the letter, concerned. "Will she be all right?"

Arthur scrutinized the grooves in his palms. Finally he spoke quietly. "My wife, she—she loved the prince once."

The pain in his voice was not caused by the reasons they thought.

"What happened?" Amelie asked. Her mother tried to shush her.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly. "She won't talk to me about it."

"They'll find him," Amelie declared. "They'll find the prince and punish the bad lady."

Arthur grimaced. He knew she was only trying to help.

"What if he wasn't kidnapped," he said quietly, "What if he wanted to leave?" Not waiting for an answer, Arthur excused himself and went upstairs, leaving Freya in the kitchen.

He pushed the door open slowly, heart beating out of his chest. It was forebodingly silent. Arthur let the door swing all the way open. "Merlin?"

She sat on the bed, stone still and staring resolutely out the window.

"I'm sorry. I—“

She whirled around, eyes flashing and features set in a fierce snarl. Arthur took a subconscious step back in the face of her rage. "You're sorry? Is that all you have to say?"

"Merlin—" 

"No!" She screamed at him. "I'm not done. I trusted you, Arthur, I thought you were on my side."

"I am," Arthur pleaded. "Merlin, I am!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Merlin shouted at him. "Why did I have to find out like this?"

Arthur couldn't help raising his voice as well. "I was going to tell you!"

"When? I know you knew," she hissed. "When were you going to tell me that I'm a _fugitive wanted for treason_?"

"I didn't know about any of that! We left because my father was going to arrest you and exile you, that's it."

"And when were you going to tell me about that? Don't you think I had a right to know?" Merlin knew that she was being unreasonable, that she should give Arthur a chance to explain. But all she could feel was this ugly, terrible, boiling rage that twisted her insides and lit her skin on fire. It drove her cruel, lashing words and filled her heart with a seething mass of cold anger. And she knew, that if she let go of that anger, she'd be left completely and horribly empty. So she let those vicious thoughts fuel her rage and pushed away the chiding voice of her conscience.

"Please believe me, I was going to tell you, but I didn't know how." His eyes begged her to understand. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Wrong thing to say.

"Did you think I couldn't handle it? Is it because I'm too weak? Too much of a _girl_?" she sneered. She didn't mean to say it but somehow all of their arguments came back to this. After all these years she chafed under the injustice of it all. Being a female on a Mariner ship was a demeaning experience. All those balls and banquets just so women could parade around like livestock. She was doomed to be seen but never heard, valued for her face and her body but not for any product of her mind. Merlin was lucky really that Arthur afforded her as many liberties as he did, and that he fought every time Uther suggested hiring a real (read: male) tutor. Still, she couldn't silence that snide, resentful voice at the back of her mind.

"No, of course not—“

"I thought you said we were equals yet you treat me like a child! You won't tell me anything, you're never honest with me and you're always keeping secrets," she accused, unbidden tears welling in her eyes.

Arthur wanted to reach out for her. How could he convince her to believe him? "Merlin, how could you think that? I never thought I was better than you. I have so much respect for you—" 

"But you lied to me."

And there was the crux of the matter. Arthur couldn't meet her eyes. He ducked his head, shame burning behind his eyes. "I did."

"Get out." Her voice sounded hollow and frigid and _wrong_. Merlin was supposed to be warm and cheerful. This Merlin was angry and hurting and Arthur hated himself for causing the pain he had tried to shield her from.

He told himself the least he could do was give her some space. He took his sword and left the rest with her. Suddenly weary, Arthur descended the stairs.

Sitting by the fire, Andrea was trying to comfort Freya, who had been frightened by the muffled shouting. Great. Now he felt bad about that too.

Freya squirmed away from Andrea and ran to Arthur. The prince scooped her up and held her close. "It's okay Frey, you're okay. We're not mad at you, all right? Don't be sad, love."

Freya sniffled. "Are you going away?"

"Frey, no, you'll see me in the morning. I'd never go anywhere without my favorite princess, right?"

She nodded, appeased.

He looked at her seriously. "I want you to go upstairs and give Merlin a big hug for me, okay?"

Freya shrugged her little shoulders like she'd seen other people do. "Okay."

Arthur set her down and watched as she raced upstairs.

"Good night, Princess Freya," he called.

She giggled. "Good night."

///

Isolde rapped twice on the bedroom door and let herself in. Merlin looked up, surprised. "Isolde?"

"Hey Merlin. I'll be staying with you tonight if you don't mind." When Arthur showed up at the loft where she and Tristan were staying with a kicked puppy expression, Isolde couldn't not feel sorry for him and agreed to switch places with him for the night.

"Oh, you don't have to—I didn't mean to make you move," Merlin said apologetically.

Isolde sat on the mattress next to her. "It’s okay, I don't mind. I understand what it’s like. Do you want to talk to me about it?"

“I guess.” Merlin took a deep breath. “I’ve been—banished. From Camelot.”

Isolde winced.

Merlin narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem surprised,” she accused.

“I knew,” Isolde admitted. “I’m sorry! Arthur wanted to be the one to tell you and I didn’t think—“

Merlin sighed. “It’s fine, Isolde. I don’t blame you. I just wish Arthur would be honest with me. He’s always lying at court and lying to other people but I thought at least he’d tell me the truth.”

“I think he was trying to protect you,”Isolde said gently. “He cares about you, Merlin. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“He should have just told me. He doesn’t have to protect me, I’m not weak!”

Isolde tried to reason with her. “It’s not because you’re weak, and it’s not even because you’re a girl. It’s because you’re his best friend. Even if you were a man, Arthur would have still tried to protect you, because that’s how he is.”

Merlin frowned. “I think I deserved to know. He had no right to keep it from me. He _tricked_ me and _lied_ to me and that’s hard to forgive.”

Isolde squeezed her hand. “He broke your trust and that’s something hard to forget. Take a break from him, take some time to think about it and calm down. But eventually, I think you two should talk about this. What you have his something precious and I would hate to see you throw it away.”

Merlin nodded grudgingly. “Thanks, Isolde.”

“It’s nothing. What are girl friends for?”

///

The next morning, Arthur, Merlin, Tristan, and Isolde sat around Andrea’s table, studying a map.

“So right now, we’re in Saint Peter. Isolde and Tristan, you two want to get to Northumbria. That’s about—“ Arthur measured the distance with his fingers. “—fifteen leagues Southwest of here.”

Isolde shook her head. “I sent a letter to our ship. They’re meeting us here in a few hours. It saves us the journey and I’d rather not get tangled up in Northumbria.”

Arthur nodded. “Excellent. Well Merlin and I are headed to Camlann. We’re meeting someone tonight.”

Tristan checked the map. “Camlann is five leagues North of here.”

“Then we should leave soon if we want to make it by sunset,” Arthur announced.

Merlin frowned, going over calculations in her head. “It shouldn’t take that long—“

“Not by boat,” Arthur interrupted. “We’re walking.”

“Walking.” Merlin’s eyebrows shot up incredulously.

“ _Excalibur_ is too conspicuous, so Leon’s coming to pick her up. We’re walking to Camlann.” Arthur informed her.

Merlin seethed in silence. Typical. Arthur didn’t even bother to discuss things with her. She stalked upstairs to retrieve their bags and marched back down.

“Ready?”

Merlin scowled at him. She was being childish but she honestly didn’t care.

“I guess this is it.” Isolde stepped in between them. She hugged Merlin. “It’s been good to meet you, darling. Write me if you ever need anything. I hope everything works out for you.”

“Me too.” Merlin offered her a genuine smile. “Thanks for everything, Isolde. Have a safe journey.”

Tristan approached to say his goodbyes to Merlin, so Isolde went over to where Arthur was standing.

The prince looked up and smiled at her. “It was good to see you again, Isolde.”

“Likewise.” She pulled him into an embrace. “You’re a good man, Arthur Pendragon. You’ll make an excellent king some day.”

“Thank you, Isolde. As you’ll make a lovely queen.”

Isolde took a step back and waved a stern finger at him. “And you be good to Merlin. Treat that girl right, you hear?”

Arthur ducked his head. “I’ll do my best. Good bye, Isolde.”

He swung one of the bags onto his back and Merlin picked up the other. They each took one of Freya’s hands and thus linked, set off into the forest.


End file.
